


Three Little Words

by RamaDevi



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: AU, F/M, Gay Panic, Graphic Description, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Major Character Undeath, Major character death - Freeform, Mating, Original Character(s), Present Tense, Self-Destruction, Slow Burn, like so slow it will make you impatient, suspend disbelief please, weredeer
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-07
Updated: 2013-12-07
Packaged: 2017-12-17 21:56:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 24,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/872380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RamaDevi/pseuds/RamaDevi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If Genevieve was honest, she hated that John Stilinski had to fight for her hand. Like, who still fought for a maidens hand in 1994?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Genevieve's Fight

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Anteocularis](https://archiveofourown.org/works/849927) by [Aravis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aravis/pseuds/Aravis). 



> This is my first time writing any fanfiction, but I wanted to give a different spin on Derek's family and angst situation. I wanted to know how Stiles would react if his family and friends were slaughtered, and since there seemed to be no story on that I wanted to make one myself. Also this is not being reviewed by anyone, but I would appreciate if you who are reading it can tell me my mistakes so that I can fix them.  
> Okay, enjoy!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If Genevieve was honest, she hated that John Stilinski had to fight for her hand. Like, who still fought for a maidens hand in 1994?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first time writing any fanfiction! Also this is not being beta'd by anyone, but I would appreciate if you who are reading it can tell me my mistakes so that I can fix them.  
> Okay, enjoy!
> 
> * this is called habaat

John Stilinski stepped out into the clearing, his pale body contrasting sharply with the dry scrub forest surrounding him. He knew he should gotten that tan. Fuck, he was white.

His water buffalo hide kisbet slides down as he shifted, anxious, and he quickly yanked them up. He traced the stitched inspirational messages from his friends and family. Stretching, he tried to loosen up, grabbing his calf and slowly pulling back. The sun glances painfully on his eyes as they search for the person he's most excited to see: Genevieve.

Genevieve sat down on one the make shift seats of fallen logs surrounding the fighting stage, exhausted. She was tired from the long run she took. 

_Well at least I've calmed down a bit._ She shakes her head, her chestnut colored hair hitting her face as she tried to clear her mind. _Why do they have to fight?_ But she knew why. **Everyone** knew why. It was tradition, and the Council loved it's traditions. John's looking at her. She could practically feel his gaze on her, trying to get her to look over. She snorts and waves at him, and he rewards her with a goofy white grin. 

"Wow, looks like I have no chance of winning if you're looking at him like _that_ ", a gruff voice announced. 

"Farnir!" Genevieve scowled up at him when he raises an eyebrow at her.

With his 6 foot stature, wild curly black hair and blue eyes, Farnir's a catch for anyone. Everyone, that is, except for Genevieve. A friend of 8 years, his physical attributes brought no reaction from Genevieve. Besides, she knew him before he hit puberty, and boy, that hadn't been a pretty sight. It was just last month he'd admitted that he wanted _her_ , and not all those simpering girls that always surrounded him at school. And now he was here, fighting for Genevieve, for her hand in rut and mate. 

"What?" he asked, eyes lighting up, teasing her. It was **not** endearing at all.

"You really shouldn't fight for me," she muttered, looking down at her hands, trying to see anything, anything but Farnir's face as the tips of her ears turned red. She liked Farnir of course, but she loved John. And she knew, no matter the outcome of the fight, that this wouldn't change.

"You said you would give me a chance, yeah?" he replied testily, bending down to her eye level. She sighed. She had known he was going to hold that over her head. 

"Yeah but-" Genevieve started.

Farnir interrupted. "So I'm going to fight. You stitched a message on my kisbet too," he reminded her lightly when she opened her mouth to protest again.

"Yeah but that was before I knew you were going to fight for _me_ ," she said, exasperated.

"Just, root for me yeah?" Farnir looked as her beseechingly, as if he'd already lost.

"Yeah," she agreed, bumping her fist to his outstretched one. 

He ambled over to the circle, shoulders hunched. He really shouldn't have talked to Genevieve beforehand, it screwed up all of his plans.

A orange pot filled with an olive oil and water mixture* was waiting for him inside the circle and he breathed in deeply as he shifted partially, wincing slightly as he felt his antlers pushing through his scalp.

Genevieve winced as she saw Farnir’s antlers. His three pronged antlers always looked out of place in the werecerva community, but looking at them now, compared to Johns six, well, it didn’t look good.

_But I’ve got to show my support_ she chided herself and then shouted “Go Farnieeeeee!” 

Farnir shook his head affectionately as he slathered his antlers generously. _The more habaat you use on your body, the harder it is for the opponent to hold onto you_. Farnir smiled as he remembers his dad’s advice before the match.

Glancing up, John's tapping his foot impatiently. “Oh shit, sorry man. I didn’t mean to take too long on my antlers and I just…” his nervous babble dies away when he sees John cock an eyebrow at him.

“Sorry,” he apologizes sullenly, nodding for John to come into his personal space. _Oh here comes the awkward part,_ Farnir grimaces as John works the habaat down his legs, torso, chest, and arms roughly. _No boner, no boner, no boner..._ the litany runs constantly in Farnirs brain as John scrubs Farnir ruthlessly with the habaat.

John breathes through his mouth, trying to breath in as little of Farnir’s scent as he can. His deer is dancing to clash antlers with this obstacle between him and Genevieve mating.

"Hurry up," a voice rumbles above him. John looks up at Farnir with dispassionate eyes.

"I'm sorry," John replies, and he pours the rest of the habaat down Farnir's kisbet, working the habaat in with both hands. Farnir repeats the same actions to John, muttering a brief "sorry" when he finds a ticklish spot on Johns side.

Genevieve peered up from the conversation she was having with her father and inhaled sharply. Farnir and John held their horns against each others firmly, clasping each others hands as they waited for the Council to blow the whistle.

"It's starting," her father smiled, brown eyes glinting in anticipation before he reached up to the whistle at his throat and blew into it sharply. Genevieve looked at John contemplatively as he grappled to get a hold onto Farnir, remembering how they'd met. 

_Fourteen year old Genevieve looked up at the towering figure over her whose hand was extended to help her up. The girls who had pushed her down whispered to each other as they glanced coquettishly at John. Genevieve struggled to get up._

_"I don't need your sympathy." she had said sharply, dusting off her knees. She fixed the perpetrators with a glare that made them quickly walk off. Genevieve started to gather her books, and a familiar hand was offered again to help her. "I _said_ I don't need your help." she'd said hotly, tears stinging her eyes. All she wanted to do was go cry by herself. The girls at Tivy High School were mean and utterly cruel and had made fun of her clothes._

_"But I want to help you." the stranger had said firmly._

_"Well what a compelling argument." Genevieve had snapped. Who was this guy? Couldn't he see that she just wanted to be left alone?_

_"My name's John." John had smiled at her as he handed her her Geometry book._

_"Genevieve." she'd replied automatically, before remembering that she didn't know this guy and why was she telling him her name? "Well thanks," she'd began awkwardly as she hefted her maroon backpack over her shoulder._

_She started the long walk home to Edwards Plateau,the new herd that her and her dad had moved to 2 months ago. To her surprise, John fell into a steady rhythm with her._

_"Um, what are you doing?" she had asked, earlier sadness and anger gone as she looked at him curiously. He looked at her and had smiled a slow easy smile that warmed her immensely._

_He had a shadow of a beard growing, and he rubbed at it contemplatively when he said "Home."_

_They had been on the side of the TX-481 Loop W then. Genevieve blinked, confused as she kept walking. It seemed that they had walked in companionable silence for over 54.4 miles. She'd swore in her mind for being so stupid. She'd been going at a much swifter pace than humanely possible._

_"Um, where's home?" she had tried to sound nonchalant, but her sweaty palms betrayed her._

_"Edwards Plateau." he replied with a knowing glance._

_"Oh then you're-" she began, smiling. But then she stopped herself. He could be the son of the park ranger._

_"A werecerva?" he answered. She looked at him with wide eyes._

_"Why haven't I seen you before then?" she had demanded._

_"I've been at Schreiner University. It's spring break for us." he said. Oh. He was older than her._

_"Huh." She was silent after that. They were almost home now. "Well it was-" she began as soon as she saw her house, but she was interrupted by a loud "Genevieve!"_

Farnir came loping over to them, his silly nubs of antlers flashing proudly as he stopped next to her.

"-nice to meet you." Genevieve finished, sighing when she saw that John had quietly snuck away when she'd gotten distracted by Farnir's theatrics.

_"Dude!" Farnir gestured wildly, "how was the first day?"_

_"Girls are butts. I should cut off my boobs and become an Amazonian warrior," she complained, and had flopped onto her bed. Farnir started to complain, but Genevieve shut him up with a _ **look**__

_She just hoped she's see that guy again...And she had, whether it was purely by accident, or on purpose, she didn't notice. But John would always walk her home whenever he was on break from school. He called her 'Gen' which had warmed her in places that were definitely not appropriate. But Genevieve had locked those feelings away in a box and was determined not to ruin this relationship. They'd joke and wrestle with each other , until one day Genevieve popped a question as they were walking to her tree house hidden a couple of feet from her house._

_"Do you have a girlfriend?" she said in a rush. The grin that had been playing on Johns lips dropped and an awkward silence ensued between them. Oh god she had not jumped the friendship wall, she shattered it._

"I was just curious," she said hurriedly, trying to brush it off. John was 21, she was 17, what did she think was going to happen? She was lanky and scraggly, and managed to get over emotional over stupid things. She turned her body from him and opened the door to her tree house. John touched her shoulder gently and she turned around.

_"Uh, I don't. I'm saving myself for someone in the herd," he said, not looking her in the eyes. A blush was creeping up his neck._

_"Oh?" she replied, but her mood was sinking._

_"No I mean.." he trailed off as he looked into her eyes. What ever he saw there made his face turn to one of determination. John crowded her against the rough bark of her tree house, arms on either side of her shoulders to trap her there._

_Before, Genevieve didn't understand why guys did this but his stomach was touching hers and her legs were being rubbed by his jeans and it so hot in that small alcove as they breathed in each others air._

_"Shhh," John said. Genevieve realized that she had been babbling out loud. If she wanted, she could have easily escape his grasp, but she stayed still, looking up at him hesitantly. "I'm waiting for you." John murmured, looking down at her mouth which she had absentmindedly licked._

_"Oh." She seemed to be saying that an awful lot._

_"Yeah 'oh.'" he smiled at her and Genevieve had tentatively smiled back._

_"Oi Genevieve where do you want me to put the-" Farnir dropped the box of tools he had in his hands as he looked at their positioning. It wasn't as if they were kissing or anything, but Genevieve would've been lying if she said she hadn't been thinking about it. John quickly stepped back from her and Genevieve scooted from his embrace._

_And _ **wow**_ Farnir looked and smelled angry. He smelled angry and _**sad**_ and Genevieve didn't understand. It had been the same sadness as the time he'd gone to Genevieve's mom's funeral._

_"I'll leave y'all to it then," He smiled, but it had been tight and hadn't reached his eyes._

_"Wait Farnir!" She shouted, because she had a this feeling that she had missed something, but he was already in his werecerva form and bounded away before she had even thought about shifting._

Genevieve was bought from her musings when she heard the scraping of antlers scraping against each other. The fight has already gotten a small audience. Farnir's normal fan club has doubled and they had freaking _signs_. Who are they kidding? She turned her look of disgust from them and pays attention to how the fight's going. Both Farnir and John are breathing hard as they scrabble for purchase on each others kisbet. Their antlers are interlocked, and they both strain to push the other off balance, grunts the only sound of a real struggle.

Farnir shoves his antlers to the side harshly, forcing Johns head to follow but Farnir's antlers groaning with the effort. John and Farnir's hands clasp each others shoulders, and John wrenched his head back. Stumbling, Farnir fell forward onto Johns knee. Up. He had to get _up_. But it's too late. John brings his knee up sharply and Farnir feels it connect with his nose and hears the subtle _**crack**_.

Farnir feels hot an cold all at once before the pain registers. He bellows out in panic, and he swings out a fist blindly.His knuckles drag over John's cheek, each one clicking across his knuckle bones like the blunt edge of a hammer. It wasn't a clean, clear impact, and his hand hurts like hell. He hoped John might have been worse off. At least if he tried smiling. Not that John had any reason to smile about once he won Genevieve's hand.

Genevieve watched in horror as John stumbles back, blood gushing from his mouth as he spit out two teeth onto the moist forest floor.

By then, Farnir had regained his balance and ducked and weaved around John, who mimicked his movement. John kicked. Farnir hopped back, wincing when he swung his head too fast. The crowd wants action. They came for a victor. Seconds pass with no contact, and John feels pressure emanating from all sides, a nearly audible chant: _**punch-kick-strike-hurt**_.

Running feet. Farnir turns. John rams into him, throwing him into a nearby tree with a thundering crash. Splinters stabbed into his bare arms as Farnir brings up his elbows to block John's poorly aimed punch. It still clips him and he grunts in pain. John pulls back his hand for one more punch when Farnir surges up and sharply brings his head down on Johns forehead. He grabs Johns kisbet as John staggers back and aims a punch a Johns midsection.

 _Feels like punching flesh-covered steel_ , he thinks grimly to himself as John rushes him. On the defensive, Farnir hopped back and trips. Glancing back to see what he tripped on, Farnir feels his kisbet getting tugged on and John quickly shoves his right shoulder into Farnir's face as John falls to his knees, bringing Farnir with him.

Farnir bites him and immediately gags as his mouth fills with blood. He struggles to get up,but John thrusts his antlers firmly through Farnir's chest, holding him down. John _feels_ it as he pushes through the muscle and bone until he feels wind tickling his antlers on the other side of Farnirs chest.

 

"Oh." Farnir breathed out, eyes locking with Johns as he flopped back on the ground, eyes staring at the sky unseeingly. The silence in the clearing is deafening as John withdrew his antlers from Farnir's chest. John gritted his teeth against the noise Farnir makes, and his stomach is threatening to make a very unfortunate appearance from his mouth at the suctioning sound his antlers make after being withdrawn, but he stands up proudly and looks towards the onlookers, whose number has doubled in size.

Farnir's golden body is marred by the two ragged holes the size of large fists in his chest. Blood pours from the wound, and white shards of bone decorate the quickly coagulating blood. It mingles with the sweat and oil on his body until it hits the moist soil and is absorbed by the dusty ground.

A single clap is heard from the audience as John stands proud, his aura of calm only disrupted by the bloody display on his antlers. Then a smattering of clapping starts until its the whole coliseum laughing and cheering and screaming Johns name. 

 

He smiles back tentatively, raising his fist up in pride as the blood from his antlers starts to streak onto his face and drip into his still healing mangled teeth. Genevieve shudders at the display and she shoulders her way through the throng of people who have managed to get in between her and Farnir, who's fangirls have deserted him in favor of fawning over John. John looks up from his crowd, eyes searching for Genevieve. 

And she's running towards him, eyes open with delight and a little bit of anger. He smiled a real smile, open and warm and he reached down to finally _kiss_ her. He's tired of waiting. But she's passing him now, running past him. Confused, John turns to follows her with his eyes. She frets over Farnir, whose finally recovered and whose getting to _touch_ Genevieve even though he was the one who lost the fight. Genevieve laughs, delighted that Farnir's not permanently scarred as she teases him that he'll "always be her knight in shining armor".

John feels his smile dropping, because everyone heard that and some are even looking at him with sympathy as he numbly pushes his way through the people who had now fallen silent. A warm calloused hand fell on his shoulder, and John looks up morosely into the smiling face of Genevieve's father, Anastazy.

"Ah cheer up boy," he says, looking down at him with kind eyes that sparkle with hidden amusement. "She's not in love with Farnir." Anastazy assures him gruffly.

John's body betrays him as he subtly looks back at Genevieve helping Farnir up. Anastazy followed his gaze and starts laughing, boisterous laughter that startle the nearby crows out of the trees. John suddenly becomes _very_ interested in the forest floor.

"You've just gored her best friend, no? Try to understand that she's _worried_ about him," Anastazy added, gesturing to where Genevieve and Farnir are stumbling back to Farnir's house. 

 

Nodding in understanding, John disengaged himself from Anastazy's grip and starts walking to where Genevieve and Farnir are laughing at their attempt to walk straight . Farnir's grin dimmed as he approached and John notices how Farnir struggles to straighten. Genevieve follows Farnirs glance over her shoulder and she turned around in surprise.

"Oh. Hey," she starts awkwardly, feeling as if Farnir is a brand on her shoulder as Johns gaze lingers on it. John inclines his head to show his acknowledgement of her before he turns to Farnir.

"Good match," he begins uncertainly, nodding to Farnir. 

"Yeah." Farnir's response is curt and strained, and frankly John can understand that. He's basically ripped away his ego in front of a thousand of people.

"Sorry about..."John trailed off, uncomfortable as he points at Farnir's wounds, which have been superficially covered with gauze and surgical tape. It's already healing, but John usually likes to avoid leaving marks on anyone he's fighting if he can help if.

Farnir's hackles are raised, but he replied with a cool "Hmmm..."

"Okay guys, no need to whip out your dicks to do a pissing contest," Genevieve interrupts, shrugging off Farnir's arm from her shoulder. Farnir winces at her tone and the loss of her support, but John flushes as he realizes that the word 'dick' just came from Genevieve Markins mouth.

"Sorry." he murmured, stepping closer to her. 

 

"No," she said fiercely, putting out her hands to stop him. The hurt must show on his face because she quickly backtracked and explains softly that she has to take Farnir home to make sure he's okay before "Dealing with us." She's fumbling by the end of the sentence and John grins.

"Do ya know where I live?" he asks cheekily, knowing full well that she does because of all those times he's caught her scent in his backyard. Genevieve's face is flaming as she looks at Johns knowing look. God she was only 18 when she did that! It's not like she's a pervert. She worries her bottom lip between her teeth as she thinks backs to her embarrassing past. 

John tries again. "Uh Genevieve?" he ventures tentatively. Oh no, was that too far? Should he not have brought that up? His mind is bursting with panicked thoughts before a cool "Yes." cuts through them easily.

"Uh what?" he snaps his head up, too late forgetting the blood that decorated it. It splashes on Genevieve's skin and she looks at him drolly.

"Yes I know where you live," she replies amused as she wipes the flecks of blood off. "I'll be there in 10." She nods to him as she puts Franir's arm back around her shoulder. 

John watched as she disappeared in the trees before pinching himself. It stings and he knows it's _real_. He's finally able to be with her and mate with her and-John stops basking in his happiness when he realizes that five of the ten minutes have passed. He shifts and runs home, the burn and stretch in his muscles warning him that he's over doing it, but he ignores it as he races to finally see _her_. His mate.  
__________________


	2. A New Challenge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Genevieve thought she was stronger than all the other girls in her herd and could handle what ever consequences her decisions brought her. But has she finally made a decision that she can't see out to the end?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's two years after the first year so that makes it 1996 in this chapter! Also if I seem too paragraph happy it's because I finally found that I could make as many paragraphs as I want.  
> Sorry it took so long to punch out! My sister deleted my original very steamy and sexy chapter. But that's okay, this one turned out much more family rated for those who aren't ready for that yet between Stiles's parents. Okay enjoy!

Genevieve flipped the pancakes haphazardly, her werecerva speed the only thing saving the pancake from a sad future. She placed it on top of the stack of blueberry pancakes she's already prepared on top of their island kitchen counter. She looked around happily as she cut the oranges for the fresh squeezed orange juice. It had been two years since their mating ceremony and Genevieve wanted to try her hand at cooking an anniversary breakfast. So far no limbs had been cut or damaged _And let's keep it that way please?_ she internally pleaded as she pressed the orange half into the orange juice maker. Genevieve blushed as she remembered their first night together.

_Genevieve had cooked her families special creamy noodle soup that night. She peeked up at John from under her lashes. Her rut was that night, but she had been too embarrassed to tell him before the fight, because what if he had lost? Then people would accuse Genevieve of being a tease and so she hoped that cooking him a well prepared dinner would relax him and her enough that they could consummate their mating at last._

__

"How is it?" she asked, worried. She had only made the soup a grand total of three times, and all three times her grandpa Stanley had helped her with the soup adding "special ingredients" when her back was turned. Now that she remembered, he never told her what he'd put in extra. She frowned .

__

__

John looked up at his mate, his pleasure at her being in his house finally fading to a background hum as he ladled a bite into his mouth. John groaned in ecstasy at the explosion of flavors on his tongue. The egg noodles were cooked to a nice al dente, not too soft, but firm enough to give it texture, the spices and cream married together so that the flavors exploded on his tongue.

__

__

"That good huh?" Genevieve smirked, but she was pleased and she smiled into her soup as she took a sip herself. After John was three quarters throughout his serving, Genevieve coughed to get his attention. He looked up and smiled at her softly, horns shining attractively in the brightly lit dining room. ** _Okay, I'm going to explain maturely about how my rut is tonight and while we're mates, if he doesn't feel comfortable spending it with me, I'll be okay spending it alone._** She opened her mouth to do exactly that, but what had come out her mouth was "I'm having my rut tonight."

__

__

Johns eyebrows climbed his face to a comical height and Genevieve chuckled nervously to fill the silent atmosphere . He lowered his spoon and walked around the table to her side. Genevieve looked at him with wide eyes, her heartbeat a staccato in her ears.He knelt on one knee and looked her in the eyes.

__

__

"Genevieve Marie Faye Markins, I'd be honored if you'll allow me to spend it with you," he whispered, lowering his head, offering his antlers to her. She gasped at the display. It was a very vulnerable gesture and Genevieve blushed. **_John uttered the vows of werecerva union! Return the vows before he thinks you're standing him up,_** her mind screamed at her. She touched the spot between his antlers gently, and his skin rippled with dappled spots as she whispered back, "John Mae Stilinski, I want to spend my rut and whole life with you."

__

__

John looked at her widely, eyes darkening with arousal as he held her hand tightly and led her to his room. **_And here we go_** Genevieve thought though hysterically as he led her through the silent hallway into his room . A large wooden swing sat in the middle of the room suspended by a chain.

__

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"Please tell me that is **not** a sex swing,"Genevieve said giggling, hysteria leaving her body as John wrapped his arms around her waist, securing her in his grasp.

__

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"It's a swing my grandfather installed for me as a kid. I never got to taking it down, I was fond of him," John murmured in between kisses, nipping at her collarbones.

__

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"Scent mark me back?" John pleaded, pupils dilated in pleasure.

__

__

Flustered, Genevieve traced his lips tentatively, and John grinned, tongue flicking out to lick at her fingers,dopey in her scent surrounding him.

__

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"You dork," she snarked, but this silly gesture relaxed her in ways that she couldn't describe.

__

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**_Man I'm going to suck at this_** , she thought. Her lips pressed clumsily onto John's. **_Welp, I tried_** , she thought miserably, pulling back, but John tightened tightened his grip on her arm. John, caught totally off guard, had no time to pucker up, to return the kiss, to do anything. All he could do was accept his mates innocent gift of affection for what it was.

__

**_His lips are soft, not chapped at all_** , she thought dazed as John dived in for another kiss. This time he tugged her bottom lip gently and a moan came from her mouth. Genevieve flushed, body warming at the thought that John could make her make those embarrassing noises. He stepped into her personal space and she backed up until the bed caught her behind the knees and she sat down with a surprised "oh!"

__

From then on it was all haste and confusion. John undid a few buttons on her blouse and left her to manage the rest while he wrestled with his own clothes. Undressing quickly, she glanced at the warm comforters, not hiding her eagerness to be underneath the covers with John and his heat and scent. John, clumsy with his briefs, took a few seconds longer. Then he was beside her, the whole shocking length of him, and they were clinging to each other, trying to absorb each others warmth. John quickly flung off the sheets.

__

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"What the heck I'm cold!" Genevieve complained, nipples hardening from the shift in temperature.

__

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"Not anymore," John grinned, kissing her argument away as his fingers explored, lingered and pressed. She was definitely warm after that.

__

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Genevieve was quiet after , involuntary sounds bursting from her when she couldn't quite stifle herself. It seemed to John that they

__

Genevieve shook her head to shake off the memory, flushing at how gentle and generous John had been with her pleasure while indulging her and letting her shyly touch on his body.

__

Straightening her back,she added a huge pile of blueberries alongside the blueberry pancakes. _Is that too many blueberries? Naw, you can never have _ **too**_ many blueberries._ She assured herself, gathering up the two plates.

__

Thank goodness she had worked at Tammy's Diner before mating with John, or this balancing act would _not_ be working out. Besides, today she had a different question to ask John.

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After her rut* had ended, she asked John,

__

“Do you think you will ever want to have children?”

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John shrugged apologetically and replied with a simple, “No”.

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She had sighed in relief and hugged him tightly. It was a relief because neither did she.

__

At age 22, it was John who questioned and she who was not ready to reply. That spring Genevieve had started browsing through Consumer’s Catalogue pricing cribs. She had thought they were too overpriced. A few months later she observed John as he played with Taevon, the 5 month old child of their friends. They had watched birds on their backyard pond, and engaged in peek-a-boo and airplane rides. Taevon squealed with delight; John acted with an abandon she had never seen before.

__

She squared her shoulders as she padded through the hallway to their room. Johns tousled brown hair peeked out from under the covers. She steadily put the plates on the dresser next to the king size bed as she dressed in her cutest lingerie piece. It was a pure white baby doll that stopped at the tops of her thighs. Under this she had on his boxers so that their scents intertwined deliciously.

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"John!" She squealed, jumping onto the bed. She bounced up and down on his legs and a groan floated from beneath the covers. "Up and at ‘em.Up and at ‘em.Up and at ‘em," she grumbled, pushing on his shoulder .

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"Not my shoulder!" he yelped, sitting up, face flushed and sleepy, and more than that upset at being woken up.

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"Then what was it...," she trailed off as she felt his "shoulders" warmth press firmly against her hand.

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"Oh sorry," she released his erection quickly. She reached over to the dresser and pulled up the plate.

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"Guess what today is." She sing-songed, batting her eyes coyly.

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"What," he moaned pathetically from underneath her.

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"Anniversary time! I made you breakfast," she exclaimed proudly, offering him a piece of bacon. John sniffed at the bacon,eyes peering from underneath the covers. He snatched the bacon with his teeth and scooted back underneath the blankets, crunching happily.

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"Are you shitting me? No, get _up_. We are having an anniversary breakfast so stop being a hermit!"

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She placed the food on the dresser then yanked back the covers. John looked at her from under half lidded eyes, yawning as he pulled himself into an upright position to eat.

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"Ahhh." Genevieve grinned as she dipped the pancake in the maple syrup. He complied and she popped the morsel in his mouth and chuckled when a dreamy smile spread across his face. He opened his mouth again in anticipation.

__

"Nuh uh, you have to feed yourself. How am I going to eat?” She teased, kissing his cheek briefly as she handed him the plate. He grumbled, but dug in anyway, shooting her a wounded expression as he devoured the pancakes. He stopped when he got to the blueberries, and looked at them apprehensively.

__

"Isn't this too many.." he stopped when he saw the expression on her face. "I mean, I love that you got up early and made me breakfast," he amended, grinning at her . She sat Indian style on his bed, legs folded beneath each other neatly as she forked a piece of scrambled egg and popped it in her mouth.

__

"Well good, because this service ain't going to be happening again for another year." She nudged him with her foot. They eat in companionable silence.

__

"John?" she asked hesitantly, not meeting his eyes.

__

”Hmm?” John looked up, bacon dangling from his mouth comically as he struggled to chew through the blueberry and bacon mixture. 

__

_Wow I make a mean bacon_ , she thought distractedly. _How should I ask him? Should I be up front, aggressive or pleading? Well he _ ** _did_**_ ask you last time_ , she thought to herself, pursing her lips in contemplation as she looked down blankly at her plate.

__

"Genevieve? Where'd ya go?" John asked, and Genevieve met his gaze, two spots of red blooming on her cheeks as she thought about what she was going to ask him.

__

"Do you want to have children with me?" she whispered, eyes searching his. "I mean, you asked me last year and I wasn't ready, but now," she took in a deep breath. "Now I think I am."

__

"Um right now? I'm sorta in the middle of breakfast," he joked, but he placed his hands on top of hers and leaned in for an Eskimo kiss.

__

"You dork!" she exclaimed, but she rubbed her nose against his obligingly.

__

"You love it," he mumbled against her lips. "Let's finish breakfast first and _then_ get to the fun stuff." He trailed his fingertips along the edge of her baby doll.

__

“What about work?” she asked coyly, unfolding her legs and wrapping them around Johns back.

__

“Didn't you know? I took the day off.” he winked and Genevieve grinned. Being pregnant with this guy by her side was going to be awesome, she thought, pleased as she leaned in for another kiss.

__

_**Two Months Later** _

__

It was _not_ awesome. The first month had been okay, though peeing when she sneezed wasn't ideal, she was willing to take sacrifices for her baby. But the morning sickness was not pleasant at all. And she didn't only puke in the morning. The name morning sickness was very misleading she decided.

__

Genevieve glared at the commercials blocking her from her favorite television show _Everybody Loves Raymond_. Genevieve burped distractedly as she changed the channels,bored.

__

Every since she told John that the test was positive he’d been working non stop at the police station, trying to get extra hours so that there was enough money once the baby came. Genevieve rubbed at her stomach distractedly to try to ease the sloshing feeling.

__

_I wish John was here,_ she thought sadly. She let out another burp,but this one brought up her eggs and grits she’d ask John to make her for breakfast. When she saw the runny yellow mixture on the pristine white bed, she started to gag and she felt her stomach lurch. More of her breakfast flew out of her mouth and her tears distorted her vision before she shoved the covers off of her, disgusted with herself and her body. The vomit pooled all over her chest _and_ the white bedspreads she’d laid down that morning. She groaned when she felt wetness between her legs. Great, she had peed on herself too.

__

She sat still for a moment, wrinkling her nose at the smell and sight as she assessed the feeling in her stomach. It had settled down and when she gingerly unfolded herself from her position, her stomach didn't slosh dangerously. She looked at the mess and sighed, exhausted. The vomit had already absorbed into the sheets and the rancid smell would be noticeable to John.

__

_He can deal,_ she thought spitefully as she climbed out of bed.

__

She waddled to the bathroom, shuddering as she felt the wetness of puke sliding down her front. She opened the door to the bathroom and quickly turned on the shower. The warm air puffed out from the shower stall as she eased off her flannel pants, wincing as the soft _splat_ they made when the hit the floor.

__

She considered her shirt. It was a t-shirt, so it wasn't going to be easy to avoid getting puke in her hair if she took it off over her head. _Maybe if I slipped it over my _ **shoulders**_ it wouldn't be as bad,_ she mused.

__

She took the sleeve and pulled it over her shoulder, then did the same to the other side. She quickly realized her problem. Her arms were pinned to her sides, and she had no way to move her hands to further pull the shirt down. She felt tears of frustration trail down her cheeks as she yanked the top over her head and quickly threw it on the bathroom floor.

__

Remnants of vomit slid down and settled into her hair. She quickly jumped into the bathtub , forcing her head under the water. The first drop hit her skin and she smiled for the first time that day as the mellow droplets washed away the horrible traces of vomit, the smell of anger, sadness and rancid eggs.

__

The hot water collided with her skin, releasing the tension that had been forming in her muscles and she sighed as she leaned her head back. Genevieve closed her eyes and the hot steam enveloped her body as she poured some soap into her purple loofah. She dragged it over her tender breasts in hypnotizing circles and then drags it over her slightly rounded stomach with a tender smile on her face.

__

“You’re causing mommy a lot of trouble,” she cooed at the bump, and she dragged the loofah on the sides of her necks down to her arms. As she washes the suds off, the water sluiced the suds down her back.

__

Slowly one tear fell down her face, then another. She felt the warmth of grief spill from her eyes and slide down her trembling cheeks. Through the blur, she could see John looking down at her, concerned. When had he come home? She sank down slowly until she hit the cold tiles of the tub and felt the hot water flow down her back and front as John stepped in with his socks on and cradled her.

__

“Hey, hey, _hey_. It’s okay," he murmured in her ear as she sniffled wetly and buried her head in his shoulder.

“I look pathetic,” she bit out, angry with herself, angry with her self and.... _angry with John for knocking me up,_ her mind threw in bitterly.

__

Johns finger stroked her arms softly. “You look beautiful and amazing” John shushed her and kissed her lips.

__

Genevieve grimaced, knowing that John was going to taste the aftertaste of vomit in her mouth and she pulled back to dissuade him from continuing. He continued to pepper her mouth and neck with kisses and cheerfully murmured “I’ll take all of you, vomit and all.”

__

Genevieve grinned at that and she huffed in amusement when John didn't want to get out of the shower.

__

“C’mon, there’s already been one person who cried today, let’s not add another to the list?” John pleaded, with tired eyes and she relented and let him soak for a few minutes while she dried off.

__

She noticed that her ruined clothes from before were gone and she bet if she looked into the bedroom, the dirty blankets would've disappeared as well. She smiled into her new shirt as she pulled it on.

__

Wet arms wrapped themselves around her middle and she squealed.

__

“John you’re all wet!” she protested weakly as she pushed him off.

__

“Sorry," he amended, taking off his wet jacket. It fell heavily to the floor and Genevieve exclaimed in disgust as it fell in the remnants of her vomit. As she bent to pick it up, John swatted her hand away.

__

“It can be dry cleaned. Besides you need some rest and water,” he said firmly when she glared at him.

__

“All right.” she conceded, and she walked to their bedroom sleepily. That shower had really drained all the strength out of her.

__

“Want to watch Casper?” John called from the living room. Genevieve thought about it. Casper, with no commercials, or Everybody Loves Raymond with commercials. _But Robert is issuing standard IQ tests to Raymond and Debra_ her mind argued. _But Casper is a friendly ghost, and there aren't any commercials_.

__

She bites her bottom lip in contemplation, nodding slowly to her self. “Sure!” she shouts back, climbing into the bed. The new, warm bed sheets cradled her body as she sank into the memory foam. “Aw yessss” she sighed in pleasure. John walked in, hair sticking up adorably as he padded over to the VCR.

__

"You guys are disgusting obnoxious creeps,"she heard Kat yell at Capers uncles as her eyes slowly droop close. John settled next to her and presses a kiss to her forehead. _Only seven more months left_ , she thinks as the t.v blurs and fades to black and she slips into oblivion.

__


	3. The Bird and the Bees attack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> According to all those pregnancy books she had read previously,being four months pregnant was supposed to guarantee the onslaught of her “blooming”. Apparently no one had told Peanut that, because here she was in Restyle, her lank brown hair slapping her in the face as she struggled into the funky maternity cowl tunic sweater.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning! There are some graphic (okay kind of graphic) parts in this chapter, but I tried to give it more meat.  
> Enjoy and please, any positive criticism would be nice.

As her second month of pregnancy passed her by, Genevieve slowly got accustomed to her life activities revolving around eating, a walk around the neighborhood, and a nap.  


Her nausea had finally started to ease off, but whenever she did vomit, John was always there with a giant glass of water and a toothbrush. Her scent apparently changed when she was going to be ill, atleast according to John.  


“Hey babe? Do you want to go with me, Nick and Jihanne to The White Horse tonight?” John called from the bathroom.  


Genevieve looked up at him groggily from her snug spot on the couch. That men she would have to do her hair, wash some clothes that would actually fit...She wiggled up the side of the couch, stalling for time as she considered. John peeked his head around the corner and shot her his trademark puppy dog eyes, and his endearing,pleading look shot straight to her heartstrings. _It ** _has_**_ been awhile since you had fun, she mused.  


“Sure.”  


She gave him a thumbs up and he rushed over and blew a raspberry on her stomach.  


And that was how she ended up that night trying to slip into her favorite Levi jeans-form fitting,sexy,look great with anything pair of pants-and found out that thanks to her jelly belly, she couldn’t zip the zipper all the way up.  


She breathed out a harsh breath and sucked in her stomach hopefully. It took her two more tries before she gave up, throwing the pants off with the anger of a two month old pregnant woman.  


Her breath hitched and her face crumpled as as her eyes became became damp. “I’m ugly.” she whispered to herself, bowing her head as the first teardrop fell onto her clasped hands.  


John looked at watch distractedly as he made small talk with Jihanne about the local news.  


“I’m going to check on Genevieve. Are you guys okay?”  


They smiled at him encouragingly,murmuring chorus of “no” and “go on John” as he slipped up the stairs.  


“Hey hon?” he called, padding down the carpet hallway.  


The sound of sobbing reached his ears and he quickened his pace , alarmed. Genevieve sat on the end of their king bed in her bra and sweats bawling angrily, punching at the pillow every few seconds.  


“Woah, woah woah,” he murmured as he caught her fist. “How about you tell me what’s wrong instead of taking it out on our hostelry?”  


She sniffled and rubbed at her eyes, and John fondly remembered that this was how she looked when they first met. Upset and angry at the world.  


“My f-fucking _pants_ won’t fit!”  


John rubbed her back soothingly as his mind raced for something to say.  


“How about that little black dress you wore to Kathy’s bridal shower?” he advised, mentally patting himself on he back.  


“But I don’t look sexy in that.”  


She pouted, crossing her arms. He tugged out one of her arms gently and led her over to their full length mirror.  


“What?” Genevieve asked, avoiding the sight of her fat thighs and puffy looking feet. John trailed his fingers down her shoulder, where they finally landed on her stomach.  


“You look beautiful.”  


His breath was hot on her ear and she found herself listening as he fingered her brown hair with his other hand.  


“You’d look beautiful with nothing on, but I’m pretty sure the bar patrons wouldn’t think that was appropriate and _hell_ if I want to loose my special girl to some stranger in a bar either,” he growled, kissing her cheek.  


“This,” he rubbed her stomach, “is proof of our love and dedication to each other. So don’t be ashamed of it.”  


“You always knew what the rights were to say you smooth talker you.” Genevieve stepped out of his embrace. “So the little black dress?” she questioned hesitantly.

 _I’m not ugly.I’m not ugly. I’m not ugly._ The litany ran through her mind firmly as John gave her a slow grin.

“Definitely.”

…........................................................................................................................  


The next morning Genevieve was regretting the bar altogether. She had gotten a lot of ‘congratulations’ over her little bump, and that was sweet, but then they had gotten home late. Which sucked because now they had to go to her checkup.  


Genevieve raised her head weakly at the jingle of keys.  


“John?” she called out groggily.  


“Yup it’s me. Time for your appointment hon,” he kissed her forehead and grimaced at the taste in her mouth. “Did you even take a shower yet?” he cocked an eyebrow at her and she crossed her arms defensively.  


“Well, no. I _am_ pregnant John.” she said flippantly,snuggling deeper in the mound of covers.  


John groaned. _She’s only going to be able to use that excuse for 8 more months,_ he thought to himself as a plan started forming in his mind.  


“We’re going to be late and then you won’t be able to see if Peanuts okay or not,” John chided, wiping off the covers.  


Genevieve glared at him from between slitted eyes but she hobbled to the shower. After taking a shower and changing into her track pants, she punched John in the arm light heartedly as she swiped a banana from the kitchen.  


“Hurry up slowpoke!” she teased.  


As they got closer to the hospital, Genevieve mumbled to herself, “What if Peanuts scan shows that there’s something _wrong_ with them?”  


“There won’t be anything wrong Gen,” John said cheerfully as he pulled into the parking lot.  


John was right. It was all fine, and John had gasped in excitement when the doctor had pointed out Peanuts head, spine, hands and legs and the little heart beating away.  


John numbly walked out of the hospital, staring at the scan pictures as Genevieve chattered next to him. It didn't seem so **_real_** to him before.  


It had all been happening inside of Genevieve so he didn’t have any proof that Peanut was something from the both of them.  


“You there?” Genevieve waved a hand in front of his face. They were at the car, and John was clutching the scans tightly in his trembling hands.

“Yeah...yeah,” he said as he opened the door. And if anyone said that he had tears in his eyes, well, that was the Texas dust.  


…........................................................................................................................................................  


“Do we have to?” Genevieve groaned as Lana thrust two maternity shirts through the changing room curtains.  


According to all those pregnancy books she had read previously, being four months pregnant was supposed to guarantee the onslaught of her “blooming”. Apparently no one had told Peanut that, because here she was in Restyle, her lank brown hair slapping her in the face as she struggled into the funky maternity cowl tunic sweater.

Her sloshing stomach was also in the fold, waiting, **threatening** to make her breakfast a revisit to the citizens of Austin. _I am _ **not**_ not appreciating the shrinking wardrobe/ballooning stomach problem,_ she thought to herself, irate.

She closed her eyes and prayed to the powers that be that the tunic would actually look good, as none of the others had so far.

“Let me _see_ Gen!” 

A chocolate hand shot out and brusquely pushed back the maroon dressing room curtains. Genevieve heard a surprised inhale and her stomach fell somewhere around her knees.

 _I must look __ **awful**_. 

“Gen, you look so perfect!” Lana squealed and Genevieve opened her eyes, dreading what the full length mirror would show her.

“Oh.”

The woman in the mirror looked _sexy_. Her brown hair fell softly on the navy blue cowl and hugged her every curve as the brown eyes in the mirror widened in surprise.

The maternity jeans she had chosen to wear with it made her even look a little bit younger, like the girl John had first met.

 _Which was weird because she had been fourteen when he had been eighteen... But still, she looked good!_

“This is it,” Lana stated proudly.

Genevieve blinked as she assessed what had happened. They were in now in Restyle's parking lot and she was holding onto two bags. She had ended up with the tunic and two pairs of black bootlegged trousers, plus the maternity jeans that she hoped would go with everything.

“Guess what I bought youuuuu?” Lana singsonged as she opened the door to her Nissan.

“What?” Genevieve questioned as she settled in the passenger seat, raising an eyebrow at her curly haired friend skeptically.

Lana was known for giving the most **interesting** gifts at the wrong time. Like the time she had given Genevieve the remote controlled vibrating panties on her bridal shower. John’s mom had been mortified as Lana had winked suggestively. They _had_ used it but still....

”These!” Lana thrust a rectangular box at her.

“Shoes,” Genevieve said distastefully. Out of all the items she hated most, shoes were her number one. 

“ _Helpful_ shoes. You might get swollen feet later in your pregnancy.”

Lana shrugged as she eased out of Restyles parking lot.

“Swollen...feet?”

Genevieve groaned. _Well that’s something to look forward to_ , she thought morosely. …......................................................................................................................... 

At five months pregnant, Genevieve was onto getting her second test. This time Peanut looked less like a cute alien and more like a proper baby.

“Wow,” John said as he glanced from Genevieve's stomach to the sonogram. “It looks just like a baby.” 

Genevieve giggled internally as she looked at his shocked face. Then John said it again. And _again_. And _**again**_. 

By the fourth time, Doctor Delane joked “What were you expecting, a puppy?”

Genevieve and John laughed. Genevieve studied the moving figure on the screen in amazement.

She could see absolutely everything, right down to his/her little fingers and toes. She understood why John had said wow. That was her _Peanut_.

“John can we....?” Genevieve started slyly, batting her eyelashes coyly.

“No. We agreed. No knowing the sex.”

Genevieve opened her mouth, a retort on the tip of her tongue. She was the one carrying his child, and she didn’t think she was being unreasonable to ask what the sex was.

“We agreed at the _beginning_ of your pregnancy,” he reminded her with a cocked eyebrow.

She settled down with a grumble, but she sneaked a peek at the sonogram to see if she could spot anything between the legs.

No dice. Peanuts legs were crossed, so he/she was definitely keeping it a surprise for the big day. She groaned irritably, but internally she was secretly relieved. She didn’t want to have to give her in-laws an answer yet on the sex, no matter how much they hounded her.

When the appointment was over, a bit of sadness swept over John.They’d gotten some photos to take home (including a great one of Peanut sucking his thumb) but he could have quite happily stared at his baby spinning and kicking around for hours. __

 _The next time I see you, we’ll be face to face_ , he thought pleased, then worried. It was a bizarre concept, and more than slightly frightening, to realize this.

At her weekly swimming session on Thursday, Genevieve told Caroline about the interrogation she had gotten last week from John’s mama about baby names, and how, despite some hardcore nagging, she had given nothing away.

Mrs. Stilinski was obsessed with Genevieve having her grandson, because she had only had grandsons so far.

Genevieve hoped Peanut couldn’t hear what his/her grandma had been saying or he’d get a complex if he was a boy, especially since Mrs. Stilinski had wanted John to call her baby Mary after John’s grandma!

The week after that wasn’t any better. She came back from her routine swimming feeling totally wiped out but happy as she anticipated spending the night in with John and watch a DVD together.

“John?” She called out into the cold, empty house.

Suddenly the house phone rang, it’s shrill screech bouncing around Genevieve’s head painfully. She tiredly walked over, still musing over where John was when she heard his voice on the phone.

“Hey Genevieve! Honey, I’m uh,at the bar,” John began as Nicks tell tale guffaw blared from the background.

“ _Why_ John,” Genevieve questioned, her voice flat and cold. All she had wanted to do was cuddle up with her husband, and he had abandoned her for his friends?

“Well there was a situation at the station that I managed to handle efficiently and safely. The Chief even said that I might be made the newest police sergeant if I keep this performance up. I know we had planned something for tonight, but Nick and the other guys forced me to celebrate my accomplishments,” he finished proudly.

Genevieve mouthed “forced “ as her mind raced. A cold calculating anger swept down her spine and she straightened.

“Hon?” John’s voice voice was tinny as she closed her eyes, weary. 

Normally she wouldn’t have cared, she’d just call up some of the girls and arrange a night out with them instead. But _today_ of all days. She was was feeling so _yuck_ and tired she just couldn’t face it.

She gripped the phone tightly, it’s plastic makings creaking ominously as she threw out sharp words that were unintelligible feelings of how, in no uncertain terms, she thought in the circumstances (pregnant wife, feeling hideous, carrying his child, etc., etc.) that John could pass up one night with the boys.

“Well Hon, that’d be rude,” John stressed.

Genevieve could practically feel the stubbornness settling in her **and** John as he continued with “Besides it’s only one night. I barely get any space as it is.”

At that comment, Genevieve snapped.

“Oh sweetheart I didn’t _know_ ,” she cooed, saccharine as she examined her chipped fingernails with frighteningly calm.

I’ll consider it when I pen in your schedule next week.” she continued, her volume rising as her nostrils flared warningly. “No hon, I only wanted a break and-” “So guess who's going to spend their night on the couch tonight asshole?!” She shouted, slamming the Nokia angrily toward it’s holder.

But instead the Nokia sailed tauntingly into the kitchen and landed with a clatter on the linoleum floor.

_Nothing’s going right tonight,_ she thought bitterly, stomping up the stairs to their room and locking it firmly.

When Genevieve woke up the next day, she smelled bacon. Perking up, she was halfway out f her bed before remembering that she was still pissed at John.

Grumbling, she almost threw herself back under the covers before she noticed the bright red scraggly weeds on her bed. She grinned as she picked them up, examining the red flowered weeds carefully.

 _Scarlet pimpernel,_ she nodded to herself, pleased, as she turned them slowly in her hands.

She padded to the bedroom door, unlocking it slowly as she looked both ways, torn between being happy and still a little pissed at the way he had treated her last night.

“Shit!”

John’s terrified face cut into her line of view as he skidded in front of her, balancing a tray of food haphazardly. Swatches of color blinded her before she was able to pick out what everything was.

Eggs, sweet potato pancakes (a current craving of hers), greek yogurt with walnuts and blueberries and a tall cold glass of milk just like she liked it.

She and John stared at each other, both wondering who would break first.

” I’m sorry for being an asshat last night,” John said sincerely, looking at the tray awkwardly.

They didn’t have very many fights, mostly because of how well they little they saw each other with their crazy work schedule, but when they did it was always awkward and hard to flow like they had once before.

“So... I brought peace offerings?”

He offered the plate to her, putting it between them like a shield in case she was going to knock him silly (which she _had_ done once).

Genevieve stared at the platter, half of her wanting to take the food and slam her door shut and the other half wanting to taunt him at giving up so easily.

But she did have _some_ maturity in her, and, thankfully for John, her anger had abated over the night.

“Thanks sweetheart. I appreciate the apology.” She gave him a firm shoulder squeeze as she took the platter.

“Can we reschedule that appointment that we had last night?”

…........................................................................................................................................................

Genevieve patted her bump nervously, smearing the very nice-smelling stretch mark cream across the expanse of the taut skin.

Her mom apparently had stretch marks, and ever since she had seen her bump first start to appear, she had been religiously slapping the stuff on.

She frowned slightly as she saw telltale purple lines that almost resembled an AA roadmap on her stomach.

_Well, my bikini wearing days are over,_ she thought sadly.

“Hey Gen, you okay in there?” Lana said, walking in.

Genevieve looked at her veerrry toned stomach tucked nicely in her hipster jeans and then rubbed her rounded bump self consciously.

“ _So_ okay. I am just peachy keen,” she groaned, grabbing her keys. Time for swimming.

“So you’re seven months along?” Caroline asked, treading in water in her bright floral swimsuit.

“Yeah.” Genevieve floated onto her back paddling aimlessly.

“I'm as nervous as a whore in church about ‘The Birth,” she finally admitted, sitting down in the four feet water.

“Why do I get the feeling that that was capitalized?” Coraline chuckled swimming past her in smooth breaststroke.

“It was okay in the beginning, because it seemed miles away. But now I’m seven months in,” Genevie singsonged.

Coraline murmured her assent, gently bobbing past her again. 

“I know it’s going to hurt , _obviously_ , but I’m hoping, in a totally bonkers way, that I’ll be one of those women who doesn’t feel contractions until the very last push?” Genevieve said in a rush, her face heating up in embarrassment. 

Coraline cocked her eyebrow and Genevieve wince. **She** knew pain. She had given birth to triplets **and** a son

“Okay, so maybe that won’t happen. But I just want to be able to cope with the pain and be prepared for whatever it takes to get Flump safely into the world.”

The lifeguard whistled sharply, signifying that class was over. Coraline patted herself dry as she looked over the bright eyed young mother.

“That’s all you can hope for sweetie.”

…........................................................................................................................................................

Genevieve sat down heavily on the living room couch, sighing in pleasure from the mundane task. She had come to the conclusion that her brief pregnancy bloom has most definitely shriveled up for good.

No one had told her that pregnancy turns a person into an old-age pensioner before their time.

She shifted her swollen feet in the soft slippers Lana had bought her. She hated the wadling everywhere, the chronic indigestion and the fact that she was getting aches and pains in her legs and groin. She wanted Peanut _out_.

Her Nokia chimed and she groaned. It was time for her antenatal class.

Genevieve went to her antenatal class and found that it was actually really useful.

“Alright now, we’re going to close our eyes. This class is all about pain relief in labour. I want you to picture your most peaceful dream. Alright, just breath nice and deep.”

Genevieve smiled to herself as she shifted into a comfortable position.

 _Okay, a peaceful place. How about that place you and Nick went to on your honeymoon?_ her mind supplied.

Genevieve snorted, and then she was _there_.She wiggled her feet on the deserted beach in Majorca. _This is where I want to be._

Suddenly she was rudely brought back to reality by the cleaners bashing about and chatting in the room next door.

“And this is all for today.”

_2 hours later_

Genevieve looked at herself in the floor length mirror. Peanut’s movements were getting so big that she could see bits of her bump wiggling about in a really spooky fashion.

She squinted her eyes at the horror show.

“Hey John what do you think is moving?” she asked absently mindedly.

“Hon. That is-that is just _weird_.” John’s strangled voice met her ears as she turned this way and that to see her profile.

She turned to look at her husband, unimpressed. He looked a bit green around the gills.

“I think it the it’s the knees, or maybe the butt, lodged up underneath my chest, which explains why I’m getting these big kicks either side of my bump,” she mused, poking her stomach.

“Oh God.” John ran off, and she smiled in amusement as she heard retching from the bathroom.

When it neared the sunset, John suggested they go out for a walk around the block.

“John this is embarrassing,” Genevieve moaned.

John tightened her laces in response, patting her knee as he stood up.

“How’s that feel?” John asked, ignoring her complaint.

Genevieve had gotten so enormous that she couldn’t see her knees, let alone down to her toes. It was mortifying, especially since John’s job wasn’t helped by the fact that her ankles and feet kept swelling up so much that it was impossible to get her shoes on anymore.

Her fingers and feet also seemed to mysteriously inflate until they reach the height of their puffed-upness by the evening, only to shrink back down to normal overnight. It was a bit miserable to have to take off her wedding ring, however, and she felt strange without it.

That night John cuddled up to her in bed and whispered “I think you look really sexy”. She smiled to herself, turning to face him, her bump in the middle of them like a natural sex preventer it was.

“Sweetheart, I’m flattered that you still find me attractive. But I can _feel_ Flump bashing about all the time now. It would _almost_ feel as if we were being watched.”

John sighed and kissed the corner of mouth. “Alright babe.”

He nuzzled her neck and then turned back over, already in the throes of sleep.

The next day was filled with lots of Braxton Hicks contractions.

“Is this normal?” Genevieve asked Anne, the antenatal nurse.

“Hm? Oh yes, you’ll ’d be having a lot more of them as you get nearer to your due date.”

“If I’m having so many practice contractions does this mean that the meant the birth is going to be a breeze?” Genevieve asked hopefully.

Anne looked at her pityingly and raised her eyebrows.

“Guess that’s a no then.”

“I actually have some bad news for you,” Anne said, looking at her clipboard. 

Genevieve looked up from her bump, alarmed.

“What is it? Is the baby alright?”

Genevieve held her stomach firmly as if to protect it’s ears.

”Oh no. _Sweetheart_.”

Anne rubbed her knee soothingly and she held up the clipboard.

“We got your blood test results back and it turns out you’re anaemic. You need to take more iron, so hopefully you’ll be more perky soon.”

She handed Genevieve a bottle, and Genevieve shook it carefully.

“Will they have any effect on my boobs, because they are looking distinctly un-perky at the moment.”

Anne chuckled as she walked they walked to the waiting room.

“Nope. All they’ll do is take you out of the danger zone and turn your feces black.”

“Gee that sounds great.”

…........................................................................................................................................................

Genevieve was hoping her nesting instinct would have kicked in by now, but the dust was mounting up under the sofa while her sponge brain still had her glued to horrible day television.

To get herself in action, she started to pack her hospital bag for the Big Day. After 10 minutes she wiped her brow, exhausted. She looked at the hospital bag and reconsidered.

“Okay. So maybe you’re more of a rucksack.”

It was almost the size of a small car because it had to fit in two bath towels, a dressing gown, slippers and all the other essential stuff on those hospital lists in the baby books.

She sniffled as she packed the baby clothes - especially when she saw the tiny pair of socks that John’s mama bought for them.

 _It’s so strange,_ she thought tenderly as she folded the swaddling blanket, _, I’m pregnant and there’s a baby inside me -I can feel Peanut moving all the time - but sometimes it still doesn’t seem quite real_.

That weekend, John put the finishing touches to Peanut’s room (putting up a cute lampshade and some animal pictures) so Genevieve had time to go shopping with her father.

She spent the whole time moaning about how much things cost, knowing that despite John working almost constantly, their budget was tight. But then her father shocked her by offering to pay for the whole lot when they got to the cash desk

. Genevieve settled onto the couch with a tired huff. Thanks to the shopping spree, Peanut now has a nifty cot mobile, musical nightlight and some Moses basket sheets.

On Tuesday morning, Genevieve thought it was time for another antenatal clinic.

Anne looked up at her with a broad smile as she announced cheerfully “All’s going well - your blood pressure is normal, your urine is OK, Peanut’s heartbeat is fine and they're has got their head down.” 

“I’m glad to know they're is heading in the right direction!” Genevieve laughed, waddling to the waiting room.

John kept reminding her that with two weeks to go, it was about time to start preparing for the best...or worse. Genevieve didn’t know if it was the iron tablets working their magic, but she seemed to have acquired a lot more energy from somewhere, so she spent the day frantically cleaning their apartment from top to bottom.

She tackled the door frames, kitchen floor and all the places that hadn't seen a duster or a vacuum cleaner for at least six months. She wasn’t sure why Peanut would need the cupboard under the stairs to be clean, but that was now immaculate as well.

On the following Wednesday she had another weekly antenatal appointment and was pleased to find out that everything continued to be alright and right on schedule.

“Your baby’s head is now 4/5ths engaged. He’s ready for the Big Day,” Anne said blissfully, tapping Genevieve's knee with affection.

“Does that mean that meant Peanut’s planning on arriving early?” Genevieve asked as Anne helped her sit up.

Anne looked at her, stricken. “Hopefully not. I’m on holiday for two weeks so he or she will have to wait until I get back.”

“Hopefully you heard that Peanut.” Genevieve touched her taut stomach. There was was gentle kick and she smiled.

The rest of the week Genevieve couldn’t help but spend it wandering around thinking every twinge meant something was going to happen - but it didn’t!

“I’m fed up with being pregnant,” she complained to John at dinner.

“I know, you’ve been telling me all week.” He grinned as he spooned her some brussel sprouts.

“Yum,” Genevieve groaned as she poured chocolate sauce over them with vigor. John raised his eyebrows but stayed silent.

“I’m nervous of what the birth will be like and that part of me is in denial. A bit of me thinks, well, you know, maybe I don’t really have to go through this birth business at all and it’s all been some big mistake. Oh gosh, I’ve totally lost it.”Genevieve rambled, stabbing each brussel sprout like it had personally insulted her maternity shirt.

John got up and massaged her tense muscles soothingly.

“Hey, it’s okay. We’ve both been to the birthing classes, we’ll be fine sweetheart.”

“You always know all the right things to say,” Genevieve murmured as she kissed him.

The following week, Genevieve sat John down to talk about her birth plan. She wanted him to know what she’d like to happen in an ideal world.

“I really want to be with you during labor.” John said casually as he sipped a Starbucks hot chocolate.

His skittering heartbeat stopped Genevieve from saying “ please stay away from the action and talk to me because I’m worried you’ll go all funny at the sight of blood.”

As she thought, two teenagers one table over giggled at their discussion topic. She winked at them before turning back to John.

“Sure babe, that’d be nice.”

John grinned and tapped her hand twice, their silent communication for _I love you._

On Sunday, John and Genevieve went for a long walk. It was only well, it was about 20 minutes there and back, but for the size of Genevieve, and her achy hips, that was practically a marathon.

The weather was really nice and they watched as the kids played on the turf, and they started talking about taking Peanut there when he/she is older.

Genevieve felt really close to John for the first time in ages, and walking along thinking that by this time next week they’d could be a proper family and have their own little baby to look after.

Genevieve lathered her legs generously. _You guys are getting way too hairy,_ she chastised them as she brought the blade down her legs.

“Babe, why are you shaving your legs? The midwife will hardly be fazed at the sight of your legs during the birth.” John yelled from their living room.

“Well, making myself look less like a gorilla will help to make me feel a whole lot better anyway,” she muttered, irritated.

…................................................................................................................................................

“Do you want to win or not?” Michael Jordan urged as Daffy looked at the water bottle uncertainly.

Genevieve chuckled. _Michael's giving them happy juice to win._

A strong contraction rippled through her abdomen and she groaned. They had been happening and teasing her all week but she wasn’t even 1cm dilated yet.

She pushed back the covers and got of bed, when all hell broke loose. A muffled pop reached her ears and she felt it too, along with a strong kick from peanut.

 _Well that’s odd what...?_ Then she remembered.

_“So how do I know if my waters broken or not?” Genevieve asked as Anne smeared her stomach with the jelly. “Well, some women I’ve had in the past said that they feel or hear a pop, and then it all just comes out on it’s own. All right, we’re all set. Now your tests from last time wer...,”_

Genevieve rushed to the toilet and sat down. A hot fluid gushed out of her vagina and Genevieve laughed tiredly and hysterically. Finally, Peanut was on board.

“Hey John, sweetie?” She hollered as it slowed to a trinkle. Silence met her scream. “John! Baby coming!” She tried again.

“Bwuh-whazzat?” She heard a groan from the bedroom.

“My water broke,” she announced cheerfully as she wiped herself.

“Water? Oh my god. Oh. My. God. Baby! Baby. OH JESUS, where’s my phone, we have to call Mary. Phone? Phone! Baby. There’s a baby! Phone help me out here!”

John looked anxiously around him, hair plastered to his forehead in exasperation.

“I’m pretty sure that screaming baby won’t get the midwife here any faster.”

She tossed the phone towards him and groaned as she heard the herd wake up with snorts and warning calls. _Darn werecerva hearing_ , but she smiled warmly as she heard a timid knock at the door.

“Hello dear. I heard John’s cry.”

Mrs. Awoley from next door smiled, her wizened hand patting Genevieve with affection as she subtly tried to inch her way inside.

“Mrs.Awoley, I don’t thin-” Genevieve started, trying to close the door. Letting one of the herd in was an unspoken way of saying that all of the herd could come in, and that was the last thing Genevieve needed on her birthing night.

“Is the midwife here yet?” Mrs. Awoley demanded, hands on her hips. Genevieve sighed.

“No,” she grudgingly admitted.

“Good. I was a nurse. Once upon a time,” Mrs. Awoley said, satisfied as Genevieve opened the door. Chorus of “Good luck Genevieve!” “Is Mrs. Stinlinski gonna have a baby?” followed Mrs.Awoley through the door as Genevieve shut it firmly.

 _Like that would keep any of them out,_ she thought to herself as another contraction wracked through her.

John rounded the corner of the kitchen, and he placed his hands on the base of her back as she groaned, grasping the edge of their couch, rocking side to side.

She inhaled deeply, focusing on _now_ and the gentle pressure of John's hands on her back as she rocked.

Genevieve's head slowly sagged and John knelt on his knee besides her, whispering soft nonsensical words that nestled warmly in her heart.

“Uhhhhhhhh,” she groaned, dropping her head back as Mrs. Awloey clasped her hand. John went to the kitchen, walking briskly and listening attentively for any change in the babies or Genevieve's heartbeat as he filled up a pot with warm water.

A strong knock sounded on the door, and John opened it irritably, expecting another member of the herd. Instead Mary stood, tired eyes meeting his panicked brown ones as she brushed by him.

“Alright, we’re just going to listen to the babies heart now,” John heard her say cheerfully as she took something out of her bag.

_It’s probably her stethoscope. Sad thing that we don’t need it,_ he thought amused as he went back to check the waters temperature.

John poured the hot water into the birth basin before Mary gently pushed him aside and said “Right now, she needs you. Mrs. Awoley and I can take care of this.”

Genevieve let out another low hum of syllables, shifting side to side as John came behind her and placed his stomach on her stomach. Mary tested the water, running her hand through it feeling the temperature as she continued the flow of water into the basin.

“What’s all this water for?” Mrs. Awoley peered into the large tub,confused.

“Mrs. Stinlinski wanted a natural water birth at home with her community. Hence the water.” Mary stopped the flow of water, satisfied.

She and Mrs. Awoley walked over to the heavily breathing Genevieve, whose eyes were slitted as she rocked side to side on her yoga ball.

Mary rubbed her leg soothingly while Mrs.Awloey subtly scented her to ease her stress, running her hands over Genevieve’s high cheekbones and over her closed eyelids, her eyes watering as she looked fondly over the couple.

“Y’all are a good team,” Mary announced, patting John’s shoulder. Genevieve eyebrows drew together sharply then relaxed as another contraction ran through her.

John helped her stand up toward him as she clutched at his shoulders weakly, groaning, sweat glistening on her forehead.

She whimpered, tears building beneath her eyes lids as her neck strained to make sound but all that came out was a strangled “Brrrruahhhhhh, uhhhhhhgh!”

Many of the herd has come in by this point, the little ones gasping excitingly as Genevieve sank down into the warm water.

Lana soaked a face towel and squeezed the warm water down her friends back as John rested his forehead against Genevieve’s.

“Agh-” her strangled shout cut off as she forced herself to relax, crushing John’s hand in a firm grasp. She bit her lip savagely against the pain.

She felt the dry press of Johns lips against her knuckles and she turned her head groggily. John pushed a stray lock of her hair away from her forehead as she released another litany of strangled syllables, sniffing the air around her. She smelled different, being on the cusp of giving birth than actually being pregnant.

Before she had smelled of sandlewood oil and oranges, but now she smelled of lilacs and wetness and undescribingly of _baby_ that made his heart swell with pride and worry as she let another groan.

Genevieve looked up, desperate for some sign, _something_ to tell her that she was doing alright , that she was going to be _fine_ and she saw John supportive green eyes in front of her. He nodded gently, running a hand down her arm.

At some point, John stepped into the basin with her, warm waters plastering his clothes to his skin as Genevieve huffed and gasped, contorted face face screaming pain as she grasped his biceps. Her red face showed her exertion as another contraction ripped through her body.

“Breathe. That’s right. Breathe.”

John’s voice was a lifeline in the midst of all this pain and she gasped, her lungs expanding gratefully.

She lifted her lips up, but they didn’t kiss. Instead they did an intimate exchange of breath, Genevieve too tired to do give much more, and John too worried to try and meet her demands.

He cradled her head as she pushed,cheeks puffing out.

“There we go mommy,” Mary cooed, pressing her stomach gently as peanut made his appearance to the world, slipping from her easily into Mary’s hand as if it was waiting for this to happen.

“Bawahhhh,” the baby cried weakly, punching the air angrily with clenched fists, blinking at the world through slitted eyes.

“Not a Mary then.”


	4. Mommy I want to be a clown!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Close your mouth idiot! Close your mouth._ Stiles thinks frantically to himself, and his body takes pity on him, his jaw closing with an audible ‘click’. _Say something witty!_ Stiles mind frantically scrambles for a good pick up line. He swaggered closer to her, and cocked his eyebrow.
> 
> “Is that a mirror in your pocket? Because I can see myself in your pants.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh gosh I am truly sorry for how late it is. This chapter was really hard to decide on. Like, was I really going to skip Stiles childhood? I mean, his memories with his _mom_ were going to be epic in my mind. But I think it'll be more nice and tantalizing when he's in the future. 
> 
> Welp, enjoy! And please don't hesitate to point out mistakes! I'd like to get more readers by having them!

John threw Stiles up, the chubby two year old giggling hysterically as he flew ten feet into the air.

Stiles screeched when he landed back in his dad's arms.

“More!” Stiles begged, waving his arms excitingly.

“Alright Stiles, one more time!”

John crouched down and Stiles giggled.

“In five, four three two....” he swung his arms up quickly, ejecting Stiles in the air like a rocket.

“Wahn!”

Stiles finished for his dad, screaming in joy. When he landed in his fathers arms again, John set him down gently on his feet.

“Tha wus coo!” Stiles raised his fists to the air, triumphant.

During that millisecond that it took to raise his arms, Stiles physique changed. His pupils expanded until they took up most of his eyes, and they turned a milky white. His thick lashes lightened in color, fading from a brown to a sickly orange before settling in a soft white. The toddler blinked in surprise

His ears had tapered into slim points, flicking every which way, trying to catch all sounds. His hair that his mom liked to keep long turned paled in shades of brown until it turned white and he fell on his butt in shock.

Johns proud smile at his sons transformation turned into one of horror as his sons bottom lip trembled. Trying to prevent the temper tantrum he knew would come, John settled down on his haunches as he rubbed Stiles on the back.

“Do you want to go tell mommy about how you did your first shift?”

John swooped down, picking Stiles up easily, rubbing his bottom to ease away the pain.

“No!”

Stiles pouted, eyes pooling with unshed tears.

”How about a cookie huh? It’ll be our little treat,” John singsonged, bouncing Stiles up and down gently.

Stiles whimpered, shoving his pudgy hands against his father's chest with a noise of discomfort.

“No!” Stiles howled.

”I know it’s scary and unexpected. Me and mommy will explain it to you later. Okay little buck?”

“No!” Stiles screamed, thrashing around in distress.

John grunted as he got a tiny fist in his eye. A hiccuped sob bubbled from Stiles mouth as John gazed around panicked.

Where was the wife when you need her?

“Shh Shh,” he tried desperately before Stiles let out an earth shattering wail.

John walked back to the house, pressing kisses firmly against Stiles temple when he could avoid the flailing limbs. His ears were ringing with Stiles cries, and he threw open the back door with something akin to relief. Stiles screams weren't stopping anytime soon, and at every chance he could he gasped for breath to continue.

“Having trouble hon?”

John whirled around, and stared at his giggling wife in shock.

“You were filming this?” he demanded, grabbing for the camera. “Why would you-”

The T.V shut off and Stiles whirled around with an indignant “Hey!” Genevieve stood at the kitchen entryway , hands on her hips as she blew out an exasperated breath. Stiles had been sitting on his lazy butt all day, watching her home recorded videos instead getting his bags inside her car to go to the summer camp she and John had paid out of their noses for. And she’d be damned if her stubborn kid was going to waste their money.

Corinthian Bryn Stilinski, if you don't get your packed bags into my car...” she threatened from the kitchen as she pointed the cutting knife at him.

“Crazy woman!” Stiles groaned, but he dutifully picked himself from the couch. “I’m being sentimental and watching our family movies before I go off to that death camp that you payed for.” he yelled as he padded up the stairs.

He blew out his breathe in irritation as his brown eyes roved over his long wavy hair contemplatively. He brushed it roughly, wincing as he hit some tangles.

“What if i kept it slicked back?” He mused as he pushed his mane back, striking a pose. His door banged open and he spun around, hair slapping his face. He spluttered comically, trying to get the strands out of his mouth.

“Mom!” he gasped out when he spit out his hair.

“This is the fifth time I've told you to hurry up.” Genevieve stated firmly, pursing her lips unhappily. She heard Stiles grumble as she walks over to the door before something _strange_ stops her. She looked back at her son, wondering what seemed so _off_ , and then smiled when it clicks.

His hair that he decided to keep long over the years is swept over his back, the curls falling softly against his back as he crossed his arms defensively, but that’s not what’s odd. Genevieve looked pointedly at the low slung Hollister jeans on his hips and the sweater vest he’s wearing that replace his usual scuffed jeans and graphic tees.

“Trying to impress the ladies?” She smiled softly as Stiles uncomfortably picked at the black braided necklace she gave him for his fifteenth birthday.

“Well mom. I _am_ fifteen,” he begins, looking at the ground awkwardly. “Plus, it’s not like any of the other girls in the herd want anything to do with me, remember? I’m harkal to them. A target for the hunters.” Stiles spits out bitterly.

Genevieve lost her smirk and she sighed. She flopped back on his king sized bed, and patted the side next to her when he refused to move. He sits down angrily, looking out of the window instead of at his mom's eyes.

“Look I know why you’re sending me off.” Stiles announces, fiddling with the bead on the necklace, rolling it back and forth distractedly.

”What do you mean?” Genevieve asked,confused. She propped herself on her elbow as she looked at him.

“I know that he hunters are near. I overheard Uncle Farnir and the others talking about it.”

Genevieve startles and Stiles stiffens as he smells the guilt, sticky and wet, flood his nose. _So it was true,_ he thinks sadly. He feels his eyes tighten in anger and he continues on, hoping his mom won’t see his milky white eyes, won’t see how hurt he is that she lied to him.

“ With me being an albino werecerva...it’s not safe for the herd.”

Genevieve looked down, embarrassed.

”Sweetheart. Don’t let anyone call you harkal, or easy prey,” she started firmly.

“Yes, the hunters are near, but that’s not the first reason I’m sending you to camp. The reason that your dad and I are sending you to that ‘death camp’ is because we want you to have _fun_ for once instead of being weighed down with ‘herd stuff’. To relax and be a kid for once. To get away from all the discrimination in this place, ”she whispered sadly. She brings her hands over his back, through his hair and over his face, scent marking him gently to let him know that she would always choose Stiles’s side over the Council’s.

She sits up and combs his hair gently, persistently nagging at the tangles and knots with the comb until they give way under her gentle touch. Stiles sighs in pleasure, murmuring as he leans back into it. He loves it when it’s just him and his mom in their own world, in their own time.

“Well I will impress the ladies. I have nice calves. Girls love the calf muscles,” he jokes, trying to cheer her up, and Genevieve laughed, braiding his hair into a tight plait that ends at the middle of his back.

“Alright you macho man, let’s go. We've got a lot of miles to travel.”

Genevieve pulled into the Sky Candy parking lot and shuts off the engine.

“Alright kiddo, your dad’ll pick you up in two weeks. They’ll give you phone access if you want to contact us. Don’t get any girls pregnant,” she jokes as she wipes at her wet eyes, determined.

She will not break down in a parking lot just because it’s her sons first time away from home. She won’t be _that_ mom.

“Aw man, I’m so popular I make the girls cry over me.” Stiles voice breaks into her thoughts and she chuckles.

“Yeah, when you come home, you’ll have an army of girls following you.” Genevieve smiles, tears gone. She pops open the trunk, and Stiles pulls out his duffel bag.

“You have enough underwear right?” she asks worriedly from the drivers seat.

“Geez mom! Yes, I have enough underwear,” Stiles whispered harshly as a group of girls pass him, giggling when his mom replies “What about deodorant? You don’t want to stink.”

“BYE MOM!” he yells loudly, ears red with embarrassment, and he walks quickly away.

“Wait. Stiles!” his mom calls out, and there’s an undercurrent smell of _worry_ and _need_ that he turns back. She lets out a low bleat, a sound too low for a human to hear, but to Stiles is as loud as day.

Stiles smiles fondly at his mom, and he bleats back, barely opening his mouth, even though he’s not a fawn anymore, even though his antlers had grown in and he’s started to give off pheromones during mating season. Even still, it’s his mom's way of showing that she’ll miss him, and he’ll never turn it down. He turns away from the car, shoulders set with a finality and walks into the camp site.

In Austin it’s hotter than his home, and he’s got a fine sheen of sweat covering his face as he stumbles to the registration center,the huge circus dome looming over him. He internally groans as he pushes open the neon colored opening.

Why did he say that he wanted to go to a circus camp again? It must have been the flyer that he saw. It was very persuasive. He grumbled as he stalked up to the front desk.

“Hi, I’m Stiles. I think I had registered to participate in your Silks 1 course, all the way to your Rope 2 course,” he said stoically to the bored looking registrar who looked at him blankly before thrusting a pamphlet at him.

“Welcome to Sky Candy, where all your wild circus dreams come true.” the registrar said, scratching at his gray beard tiredly. “You’ll be in campsite number two, cabin 3.”

 _Wow he really sold that to me._ Stiles laughed as he walked over to campsite number two, hefting his duffle bag more securely over his shoulder. He looked up at the training field and sighed dreamily as the girls bent over one leg vertical to the air and they touched their toes. _This is awesome. Maybe being in a leotard won't be so horrible if I get to see that every day._

“They’re pretty good looking aren't they,” a nasally voice said from his right and Stiles stumbled in surprise. A short guy stood next to him, pushing up his glasses as he looked the girls over. His hair had that Edward Cullen disarray people either loved or hated and he had a slightly upturned nose.

The guy swung his face towards Stiles eagerly and Stiles was surprised to see that the kid had hazel flecks in his dark brown, almond-shaped eyes.

“I’m Alan,” he smiled at Stiles widely and Stiles cocked an eyebrow as he saw that all the kids canines were missing.

“You’re wondering what happened to them aren't you?” the kid asked, pulling Stiles along as they neared cabin 3.

“Uh-well. I mean,” Stiles stuttered, but Alan cut him off. “I pissed off the wrong clown,” he whispered seriously, looking around nervously as if said clowns were going to jump out of the forest and pull out more of his teeth.

“Um is this your usual conversation starter?” Stiles asked, pushing open the door.

He heard an exclamation on the other side of the poor and he looked in, confused. He had asked for a single cabin. A chubby girl glared at him from the floor accusingly.

“Uh, what?” Stiles asked, backing out slowly, but the girl caught his leg in between hers and pulled him in while Alan quickly shut the cabin door.

“Alan! I thought you were going to stall him!”The girls sent a glare at Alan that made Stiles feel sorry for the kid, but at the moment, Stiles felt irritated and confused.

“Alan!” Stiles whirled around and the lanky kid looked at the ground.

“Is this a joke on the new kid? ” he questioned confused, and a little bit angry. If there were going to be douche bags in this camp he was going to kick their asses.

“Not really. We’re known for going through peoples stuff to find out who they really are and know if you were worth making friends with,” the heavily freckled girl said nonchalantly, releasing his leg and standing up, brushing off her leotard.

“But you haven't unpacked yet, so we don’t know anything about you,”she finished, fixing him with a stare that made Stiles feel as if he was a bug under a microscope.

“So am I worth making friends with?” he asked grudgingly, curious to see if he passed their test.

“Well let’s see. What’s in your bag?”

The girl flopped on his bed tiredly.

“Dude! That’s my bed!” Stiles exclaimed, handing over his duffle.

She seemed a glare in his direction that made Stiles freeze. First rule of being a werecerva, don’t run if the predator sees you.

“Sharing is caring sport. Alright we got some socks. Well you can never have too many socks. Some sunscreen....” the girl rummaged through his bag like a raccoon in a trash can, exclaiming whenever she found something really exciting.

“So...do you guys always do this?” Stiles asked them nervously. They looked about 2 years older than him, too old to really bother with a 15 year old.

“Huh? Oh, no. But we heard your mom in the parking lot. She’s funny. So we hoped you’d be too.”

Stiles groaned. Of all the bad luck. Of _course_ his mom’s comments would get his cabin ransacked and two crazies looking through his bag.

“What if i don’t want to be your friend?”He wondered aloud. Their credentials for being a friend of Stiles were sorely lacking. And he had no intention of being friends with sneaks.

“Then you can be friends with the actual douche bags of these camps, the primadonnas or the guys who’re just here to ogle the girls.” the girl stated distracted, dreadlocks shifting against each other as she looked at Alan.

“Alan,” she began cautiously, looking at Stiles sideways. Stiles could smell excitement and another heady scent wafting off of her as she glanced at him.

“Yeah Steph?” Alan asked, fingertips bouncing on his legs in a nervous drum beat.

“We’ve found the perfect friend,” she said solemnly, looking at Stiles in awe.

“So what are you guys?” Stiles asked, placing his picture of his mom on his dresser.

“What do you mean?” Stephanie said, putting his shirts in his drawer.

“Well you said there were the douche bags, the primadonnas, and the guys who like to ogle girls. Which are you guys?” Stiles shoved his lotion, sunscreen and other topical-applied items on the ledge by his bed.

“Well, we’re the abandoned. Our parents just left us here because they thought we needed to be taught a lesson on what it means to be poor.” Alan mumbled, looking at his fingers.

Stiles looked at them, disbelieving. Alan's shabby flannel shirt with his naturally ripped jeans didn't give off an air of being rich. Neither did Stephanie's tightly laced, but worn, hiking boots. If anything, they looked like two kids he’d find in any walk of life.

“So what about you sport? You don’t look like you’re aiming to be the most flexible guy in the camp, nor do you seem to be that much of an ogler.” Stephanie said, looking at his mom's smiling face with interest.

“Uh, well, my mom thought I was serious when I said I want to be an acrobat.” Stiles grinned sheepishly.

“Oh man. Now _that’d_ be terrible. Being taken for your word.” Alan nodded seriously.

“Let’s go show you around kid. This is a pretty big campus.”

Stephanie and Alan walked by his side as they drew nearer to the large looming tent.

“I was already in there, and I didn't see anything,” Stiles complained.

“Now see, this is the problem with you youngun’ today,” Alan drawled. “You don’t look beyond what you see.”

“Did you just quote Lion King at me?” Stiles chuckled, looping an arm around his neck. Alan smiled at him, and Stiles bumped into a wall of muscle.

A _warm_ wall. He looked up, ready to apologize when said wall pushes him away from it.

“Dude, what the hell?” the dude grunted, glaring at him and Stiles shuffled his weight nervously. Waves of irritation assaulted Stiles nose and he frantically thought about how to calm the guy.

“Sorry man. I didn’t look where I was going.”

The tall brute looms over him and Stiles flinches back nervously as the giant takes a step near him. “Uh nice leotard?’ Stiles squeaks, uncertain. “It brings out your muscles.” The guy relaxes, running a hand through his blond hair.

“Thanks, I got it from Amazon. It’s pretty stretchy.”

The guys blue eyes dart over Stiles face, lingering on his lips before his nose wrinkled in disgust upon seeing Alan glancing at him impassively.

“I’m Leonard. Maybe you want to drop the testicles and hang with us some time?” Leonard's eyes flicks dismissively over Stephanie and Alan, before cocking an eyebrow at him.

Stiles weighed his choices internally. _Be friends with a douchenozzle who calls peoples names, or people who ransac my cabin. God what has my life come to?_.

Stiles took a huge step back from Leonard, whose eye twitch with anger. “Uh thanks for the offer, but I think I'll hang with these guys.” Stiles stammered, walking backward, barely avoiding Leonards groupies.

“Hey no problem.”

Leonard smiled, open and friendly, but Stiles missed the way that Leonard's groupies crack their knuckles threateningly. Stiles sighed in relief as he waves a goodbye to Leonard, who tracks him with his eyes.

As soon as they’re far from him. Steph leans over to him and whispers, “That was one of the assholes.”

Stiles rolls his eyes as they come to a stand in front of a warehouse.

“Who is he?” Stiles asks as he steps into the dark warehouse. A single light is turned on and he catches a sound.

“Wait guys someone’s in here.” Stiles whispers frantically.

“No there isn't?” Alan questions, eyebrows knitted close together in confusion.

Stephanie turns on her phone and the low light reveals nothing suspicious but a box of hula hoops and exercise ropes.

“I don’t see anything over here.” Stephanie says. “You sure you heard something? Because if ya did, our asses are grass,” she mutters nervously, flicking the light off.

“It came from that direction.” Stiles points into the dark alcove to his right. As they walk to it , Alan whispers “This is how people get killed in the movie Stiles what-” Alan stops as they turn a corner.

It’s brightly lit with different colored ropes of silk descending from the warehouses ceiling. In the middle of the silk forest is the most beautiful girl Stiles had ever seen. Stiles is slack-jawed as he watches the slender girls curled body unfolds from the long silk rope.

He lets out a soft cry when her body drops harshly but the others shush him as the brunette girl extends her back leg out gracefully, the rope the only thing from keeping her plummeting to her death.

She swings down, arching her back as she firmly grasps the red silk in her fist, her body a taut bow.

Stiles walks over to get a better look before he trips over a bag. The loud noise startles the young teenager suspended in the air, and she drops from her position slowly, reminding Stiles of a spider as she flexes her toes, lazily spinning in a circle.

“What are you doing here? First timers aren't allowed in this part of the campus,” she says cockily, looking at the open jawed youth in front of her.

_Close your mouth idiot! Close your mouth._ Stiles thinks frantically to himself, and his body takes pity on him, his jaw closing with an audible ‘click’. _Say something witty!_ Stiles mind frantically scrambles for a good pick up line. He swaggered closer to her, and cocked his eyebrow.

“Is that a mirror in your pocket? Because I can see myself in your pants.” Stiles flushed, cheeks burning as his mind caught up with what he just said.

“N-no, not that I’m a pervert. I mean, you’re not even wearing pants, you’re wearing a leotard. I mean, oh god, I swear I’m smoother when I have more notice in meeting someone as pretty as you.”

The corners of her lips curled against her wills and she blinked at him before she let out a surprised giggle.

“Um guys?”

Stephanie coughed awkwardly as Alan nervously shuffled forward.

“Oh he was with _you_ guys. No wonder he’s in the forbidden parts,” the blond brunette snorted in contempt as she completely slid off the rope and started to pack her supplies in the same back that Stiles had tripped over.

“Uh, wait!” Stiles called out as she brushed by Stephanie, who made a face behind her back.

“What kid?” The girl sighed, obviously not swayed by the Stilinski charm.

Stiles rubbed his neck awkwardly.

“What’s your name?”

The blond brunette studied him before shrugging delicately. _What was the harm in telling him?_. 

“Kate. Kate Argent.”


	5. Sticks and Stones

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for not putting this chapter up sooner. I'm still trying to juggle writting this and doing my thang for college and it's getting me all in a tizzy!  
> Enjoy~

Kate looked up at him from under her honey blond eyelashes, and then lowered them, smiling at him coquettishly. A light warm breeze ruffled her hair and it flew back in slow motion as Stiles gaped at the picture before him. Kate was lying on her side, golden legs tucked against her butt. She was beautiful, and if Stiles could, he’d have melted into a puddle of goo by now.

Kate licked her lips and she stretched languidly, her lean tan torso making its importance known before she caressed one of her pink-tipped, heavy breasts. Stiles gulped, throat suddenly dry as she rubbed her left nipple, rolling it between her index finger and thumb, peeking up at him with a question in her eyes.

He crawled over the picnic quilt that suddenly appeared beneath his knees, eyes never leaving her hazel ones as he came up to her side.

“What do you want me to do?” 

Now that he was there, Stiles didn’t know _**what**_ to do. 

“Touch me Stiles,” she whispered in his ear, hair trailing over his suddenly bare chest.

He shuddered at the soft sensation. _Goosebumps,_ he thought distractedly as he gazed into her eyes.

She reached out her arms and cupped his face in her soft hands before she lowered herself back on the checkered spread, arching her back so that his hands were suddenly full of her chest.

He glanced up uncertainly, and when he saw her encouraging smile, he lowered his head, flicking his tongue against her nipple. He moaned weakly against her skin, reveling in the taste of her smooth skin, drinking in her smell before he slipped one of his hands in the apex of her thighs, excited. She writhed beneath him, whimpering for more as he rubbed teasing touches on the inside of her thighs before slipping one finger into the moist wet-

“Wake up! Wake up! Today is July 23rd, 2012. Wake up! Wake. UP!” A mechanical voice chirped excitedly in Stiles ear. Stiles groaned, and he burrowed under his blankets for more body warmth and to get away from the offending screech. 

Wake. UP! Wake up! Wake up!” __

Oh sweet lord when hill this end? stiles thought to himself, opening his eyes the barest bit, squinting in the dark of his cozy cave he made. There were a few minutes of silence and Stiles poked his head out cautiously, covering his ears with his hands just in case. 

When no mechanical sound abused his ears he smiled to himself, rolling over on his side.

_Kate here I come….heh cum._ he thought sleepily to himself, rubbing his erection lazily.

“Wake up! Wake up! Skills One class starts in 30 minutes in the Silks Warehouse. This is located on the left side of the Registration office. Remember to dress appropriately! Wake up! Wake up!”

Stiles eyes shot open and he punched his cabin wall angrily. All excitement he felt in regard to his dream faded quickly as he rolled out of bed, sliding from the bed lazily so that half of his body was still cocooned in the warmth of his bed.

His chest hit the wooden floor with a solid _**thunk**_ and he groggily let out a “Ughhhhh” of pain before pushing himself up.

He untangled his legs from his comforter before scratching at his nappy hair and letting loose a jaw cracking yawn. Suddenly someone was knocking tentatively at his door before there was a two second scuffle and a harder more authoritative sounding knock came.

Stiles shifted partially, his tongue elongating before snaking out of his mouth and lapping over his nose quickly. He sniffed cautiously and the smell of Stephanie and Alan hit his nose, the scent tingling in his nose before he wiped at his nose, and the spit, as well as their scents, disappeared.

He opened his door quickly and Stephanie, who had apparently been listening for him to come to the door, fell in with a gruff “Oof!” 

“What the hell do you monsters want at,” Stiles checked his watch,” _ **7 in the morning**_? Why the hell do they wake us up at seven in the morning? Fucccck!” Stiles exclaimed, running his hand through his hair, agitated. Alan and Stephanie looked on, Alan albeit a little worriedly, and Stephanie with an amused grin on her face.

“Oi, macho man!” Stephanie barked, stopping Stiles mid rant.

“What?” he mumbled self-consciously, lowering the fist he had been shaking at the intercom.

Alan chuckled at the suddenly bashful Stiles before looping an arm over his shoulder like he had done yesterday. 

“We,” Alan pointed at him and Stephanie, who was brushing off her elbows irritably, “are taking you to the showers.” 

“Why? I take showers at night.” Stiles asked, confused. Besides, they had already shown him where the showers were the previous day.

Alan and Stephanie looked at each other with identical smiles and Stiles felt a shudder run through him when they aimed those smarmy grins at him.

“Well I saw a _**certain someone**_ going to the showers this morning,” Stephanie singsonged, cocking an eyebrow at him. 

Stiles perked up, and he missed the way that Stephanie’s heart beat accelerated in favor of asking her what towel had Kate been wearing and what time Kate had gone to the showers.

They all chattered among themselves excitedly as they left Stiles cabin, unknowingly passed one of Leonard’s groupies.

The sleeves of his leotard fit too tight over his muscular arms as his deep set eyes glared at them from the folds of fat on his face. Another lanky teenager sidled up to his side noiselessly and he too looked at the trio.

“Is that them Blake?” the lanky teen rumbled, his raven hair flopping stylishly into his brown eyes. Blake whipped around in surprise.

“Shit Chad. Make some noise when you want to get my attention.” Blake whisper- shouted, looking around uneasily. Chad looked up at the mountain of a man unflinchingly, a bored look coming over his face.

“Is. That. Them?” Chad repeated, nodding at the spot where the trio had been.

”Fuck we lost them!” Blake shouted, before Chad elbowed him sharply in the stomach.

Leonard had been very clear when he said that he didn’t want any of the suspicion falling on him after they were finished dealing with Stiles, and Blake’s yelling _**wasn’t**_ according to plan.

There was no change in Chad’s expression as he stared with disinterest at Blake, who had grunted slight before straightening up and shooting him a glare.

“After we’re done with him, “Blake hissed to himself, watching Chad’s back as he trailed after him, “I’m gonna fuck you up.”

Stiles stopped in front of a puke green painted cabin, looking around non-subtly.

It was 50 years old, or so he was told, and the paint as chipping in some places. On opposite ends of the cabin, Boy and Girl were spelled out in bright red, looking all in the world like they had been slapped on in anger, and with some poor victim’s blood. Apparently, they were repainted every year to prevent the wrong people from going into the wrong restroom and the still drying paint dripped down in ominous strips.

”Hey guys where’s Kate?” Stile asked suspiciously. 

He was a little terrified. What if they brought him out here to kill him and dispose of his body before anyone found out? They went through people’s things for gosh sakes.

He heard the tell tale sign of grass and he turned around quickly. Okay, now he was a lot terrified.

Stephanie and Alan were shoulder to shoulder and they aimed identical squirt guns at him threateningly. Stiles backed up, almost tripping over his own feet as he remembered the uptick in Stephanie’s heartbeat back in the cabin.

“Oh my gosh, you little stinks lied to me!” he exclaimed, his brain finally giving him a reasonable answer.

”Actually Stiles, _**you**_ stink.” Stephanie grinned impishly and squirted with a warm blast of water. “Dude! I have class in a couple of minutes!” Stiles yelped, starting to jog when he saw the glint in Alan’s eyes. Another blast of warm water hit his back and he giggled despite the fact that he was going to be soaked by the time he had to go to class.

In retaliation he dug up clumps of grass and chucked it as them, hitting Steph directly in the chest before it slid don her front leaving a smear of dirt behind. The clump meant for alan, missed a mile wide but Alan still ducked exaggeratingly to avoid it.

Two hands clamped onto Alan’s shoulder as he feigned to avoid the clump projectile straight for his face.

He turned around slowly, dread curdling in his stomach as he looked up into Blake’s cold eyes.

“Be careful next time sweetheart?” Blake growled, looming over Alan’s suddenly still form.

Alan’s heart raced as he remembered his first year at the camp. Blake had “accidently” broken one of his arms during his Skills One class when he had pointed out that Blake was not supposed to go too high on the silks as a first timer.

“Get the hell away from him, you creep.” Stephanie sneered, pushing her way into Blake’s face. She was there that day that Blake had broken Alan’s arm and she had kicked his ass in front of the whole class. She didn’t want him to forget it anytime soon. She looked him square in his eyes before cracking her knuckles threateningly.

Blake flinched and she laughed loud and hard before turning on her heel and stomping away from him, dragging Alan along with her by his collar. Not that Alan minded. He internally shuddered as he saw Blake whisper to his lanky friend, who glared at them menacingly.

“Why’d you guys stop?” Stiles asked, laughter in his voice as he saw Alan and Stephanie walk back towards him.

”Why, you like getting your ass kicked?” Alan joked weakly, but he rubbed his arm unconscientiously.

Stiles spluttered in indignation, but Stephanie slapped him on the back. “Those guys,” she nodded her head to Blake and Chad, “are Leonard’s henchmen. I think they’re interested in you,” she noted sadly.

”Okay why does it sound like you’re preparing my funeral already?”Stiles asked, running a dirty hand through his hair, dropping the clump of grass and dirt that he had planned to pelt Steph with.

“They’re...not good people.” Alan looked around nervously, noticing with increased horror that the two boys had disappeared while the trio had walked into the Men’s bathroom, Stephanie shamelessly strutting after them.

“Not good people’ is an understatement Alan. They broke your arm the first year you came here, and then threatened to rape you if you told.” Stephanie spat, disgusted with the thought as she stripped down to her bathing suit and stepped into the pelting spray of the showers.

“WHAT?!” Stiles screeched, tucking his arms into his armpits. He forgot to put on his swimsuit before coming down here.

“So... Leonard has people who rape and beat people up?” Stiles mulled this over in his head like a cow would chew over cud. Suddenly the stares that Leonard had been aiming at him the other day made sense, and he shuddered.

“How can he do this? I thought this place was a safe haven. You know no discrimination over your status in wealth and all that cool shit?”

“Well,” Steph’s voice garbled out as she rinsed off her dreads, dirty water sluicing down the drain, “Leonard is the third son of Rex W. Tillerson, and that dude is rich as hell.”

Stiles slathered his long hair with some of the soap that Stephanie had used to wash her own hair as he thought. _Rex W. Tillerson. Rex W. Tillerson. T-Rexxxxxx_. His mind drawled, trying to make a connection.

Alan sighed, seeing Stiles distress. “Richest dude in Texas? Owns Exxon Mobil Corporation?” 

“But, but,” Stiles stuttered, hands frantically washing his hair as he thought, “Isn’t the dude like 62? Leonard’s like 17, or 18 TOPS!” he exclaimed. 

Yeah well,” Alan shrugged awkwardly as he dried himself off, “Old dudes like beautiful woman so…”

“EWW!” Stiles shouted, turning off the shower before turning to point at Alan accusingly. “I don’t want to think about ittttt” he singsonged, brusquely rubbing himself dry.

A warm soft hand curled around his shoulder and he shrugged it off, or tried to as he reached down to dry off his legs.

“Steph. I’m naked. No bad touch please.” Stiles joked, jerking his arm, trying to dislodge her hand.” 

”Umf!”

Stiles heard a muffled scream and he turned around in surprise to see that Steph and Alan were surrounded by more of Leonard’s punks.

“What the fuck.!” Stiles tried to cover his self, his nakedness making him want to curl into himself away from all the leering eyes.

“Oh no you don’t,” a silky voice said, and the hand on his shoulder tightened.

“Blake let him go,” a sleepy voice interrupted Stiles form starting his internal freak out. Stiles looked up, fully prepared to run when he locked eyes with Leonard himself.

“You…” Stiles growled, clutching the towel at hips defensively. “You should’ve accepted my offer,” Leonard smirked, stalking up to him until his chest was pressed against Stiles.

“What do you want you faggot freak!” Stiles screamed, pushing away from Leonard.

Leonard grabbed Stiles wrist tightly, and he whispered harshly in Stiles ear “I’m not gay, you stupid piece of shit. I just like to taste my options before I have to publicly put on my suit and take over my father’s company.”

Tasting your options?” Stiles whispered, body tensing as he felt a hard erection against his back. Leonard’s eyes were so _**cold**_ and suddenly Stiles didn’t feel so brave, Werecerva or not as one of the teens yanked his head back, exposing his throat to Leonard. 

Chad chuckled darkly as he grasped one of Stiles ankles, wrapping a bondage cuff around it before tightening another on his opposite and connecting them with a key. Stiles wriggled, trying to move, but all it did was send a warning throb up his thigh and he cried out weakly.

Gasping, Stiles watched with a certain feeling of detachedness as the room seem to grow smaller around him. “I can’t- he wheezed, hands clawing at the air, “breathe.” His chest hurt as he struggled to bring in a breath.

“Shut up asshole.” Leonard’s breath wafted over Stiles and he turned his head and promptly threw up, the spittle dripping from his mouth as Leonard punched him in the jaw. hard.

“You’re a fucking disgusting piece of ass. You’re just a piece of meat begging to be fucked.” Stiles slumped, the fight leaking out of him as Leonard’s goons surrounded him. “Mom,” Stiles cried, eyes watering as he closed his eyes.

Suddenly something huge hit him in the back and he shrieked, falling forward. “What the fuck?” Stiles heard Leonard say from far away. 

Stephanie let out a monstrous bellow as she brought her knee up to meet Leonard’s nose. There was a sickening crack before blood flowed from Leonard’s nose. A small trickle of blood flowed from Stephanie’s eye as she looked down at Stiles, big brown eyes wide with panic and worry.

“Come here, you fucking bitch.” Another one of Leonard’s bodyguards screamed and Stephanie managed to get one more punch in before three of the boys surrounded her. 

Stiles looked up in awe, the picture before him making his head hurt as he struggled to his feet. If Stephanie could fight then do could he. After all, he was more than human. A wet _**rip**_ ran throughout the enormous shower room and every one turned to look at the source. 

Where Stiles had once been stood a seven foot tall albino buck, which stomped its hoof threateningly as Leonard came closer. 

Stephanie stopped struggling against the boys who had trapped her as she looked up into Stiles milky eyes. _The government should really stop experimenting on humans_ she thought to herself as Stiles stomped closer to Leonard, his antlers scraping against the roof of the cabin.

“Please God, I’m innocent, please spare me!” Leonard pleaded, throwing himself before the huge beast. The rest of Leonard’s group looked at each other, their fear wafting into his Stiles nose.

Stiles shook his head angrily, his antlers piercing the roof of the cabin. Someone screamed as the plastered roof of the cabin started to fall. Stiles let out a harsh bellow, and suddenly Kate was _**there**_.

Stiles stopped his bellowing as he observed her with his new eyes, taking in all the details. A gun sat on her hip and she was decked out in military gear. Tan cargo pants firmly tucked into Timberland boots. Her hair was pulled into a harsh ponytail and she looked like a fierce Amazonian princess, and her green eyes barely glancing at him before she whirled on Leonard.

“What the fuck are you guys doing?” she yelled at Leonard as she shoved him into the wall.

Alan, who had fainted when Leonard’s group had surrounded him, shook himself awake and gazed up at Stiles bulky form. “God?” he whispered, his pallor paling.

Leonard had slid down the wall, blubbering and whimpering to himself as Kate forced Leonard’s head up so that he was forced to meet her angry eyes. Most of the restroom was empty as the mechanical voiced chirped “Skills One class in three minutes! Hurry up and let’s go!”

Alan laughed hollowly, letting his head fall back against the gritty wall with a ‘thunk’. He’s almost been raped. Thank god that Blake didn’t like fucking still bodies he thought bitterly. “I should get ready for class,” he whispered to himself, but he stayed where he was.

Alan shouted out and she froze. A warm puff of air hit her neck and she shivered, body tensing for an attack. _I’ll turn and duck,_ she thought to herself frantically, fingering her knife in her jacket sleeve, heart rate accelerating _and then I’ll stab it. Whatever _ **it**_ is,_ her mind murmured grimly.

Alan watched in shock as Kate ducked, pivoting on her right foot to sweep around in a circle. Suddenly the air around the giant deer thing **shifted** and Stiles stood there, antlers protruding from his long hair comically. Stiles blinked slowly and sleepily. It always took a lot out of him to fully switch into his ‘Cerva form and the room swan out of focused as he peered around the room.

“Stiles?!” Kate shouted in surprise, but to Alan, Stephanie and Kate’s horror, the knife that she had meant to aim at the monster slipped between Stiles ribs with a wet _**pop**_. Stiles felt the knife and he exhaled harshly, falling heavily to the floor.

“Kate?” he whispered, looking at her with those milky white eyes that she had associated with the monster. A thin trail of blood flowed from his nose and mouth when he coughed wetly.

“Stiles? Was that … you?”

Stephanie crawled over to Stiles as Kate stood numbly looking at Stiles life flowing out of his frail body.

“If you mean that badass deer that saved our asses, then yeah.” Stiles wheezed, forcing his eyes wide.

He was so tired. He knew that clowns were evil and circuses were the house of evil. _why isn’t anyone taking out the fucking knife already?_ he thought to himself, panicking slightly as he felt one of his arms go numb.

“Bu-but how? “Alan’s trembling voice pierced Stiles irritation and mounting panic. Stiles glanced up from his position on the floor and grimaced in sympathy, a bolt of pain striking through his chest as he did so. Alan hairdo was more disheveled than usual, with a giant welt on his forehead where it had smacked against the marble floor of the cabin showers. Stiles felt bad for the kid, he looked like he was worse off than Stiles.

“Are you God?” Alan asked hopefully, pushing up his cracked glasses, some of the glass hitting the floor like a thousand raindrops.

As much as Stiles wanted to respond to that, the light at the end of the tunnel was coming and **fast**. “P-pull out the…” Stiles gasped, tiny tremors going through his suddenly frail looking frame.

Stephanie felt tears hovering at the edge of her vision as she watched Stiles pallor graying by the second. Well she’d just have to woman up. She pushed her self-closer to Stiles, stomach threatening to turn as she looked at the coagulated blood and flesh around the wound. She grimaced as she grasped the handle of the knife and Stiles let out a weak moan. Suddenly her hand was smacked away, and she looked up in shock.

Kate’s solemn expression met Stephanie’s as she said “It was my fault, now I have to fix it.”

Although Stephanie wanted to bitch at her about her stupid decision to throw the fucking knife in the first place, Stiles was dying at her feet. Kate grasped the handle of the knife and **pulled**. It came out with a suctioning sound and Alan turned his head abruptly and vomited, tears piercing his eyes and running down his cheeks as the foul smell reached his nose.

Stiles let out a pained sigh, and Stephanie, Kate and Alan let out a collective breath. “Okay, here’s what’s going to happen,” Kate drawled, cleaning off her blade on her pant leg. Stephanie helped Stiles up while giving Kate her best stink face. Nothing should be happening, because her world had just exploded and there was plaster in her hair. Alan glanced up wearily as Kate droned on about how they should keep quiet because of Stiles “condition” and because Stiles was probably too poor to sue the richest man in Texas . When Kate finally stopped to breath, it was Stiles, blessed, still healing Stiles, who saved them all from more of Kate’s voice.

“As much as I like this,” he gestured between him and the half circle they had made, “I want to get my money’s worth and learn how to be a clown.” Kate pursed her lips, as if she had understood nothing that just came out his mouth before shrugging delicately.

“Well good thing I brought my leotard.” She smiled, and again Stiles was taken aback by her beauty, even when she had pieces of plaster in her mouth. 

” But… you’re not healed. You should’ve died actually! How are you-”Stiles lifted his shirt and Stephanie fell silent. Instead of the huge exit path from the knife, there was a ragged scab the size of two of Stephanie’s fingers. Kate gasped, but it sounded far away as Stiles heard Alan mutter, “Oh man, this summer’s going to be weird.” Alan helped Stiles to his feet any way and Kate was back in front of him with her leotard. “Oh no,” Stiles whimpered, looking at it. “Oh yes deer boy. Let your grace shine.”

Stiles grimaced as he pulled the hot pink leotard over his still healing wound. When it caught on the ragged flesh the third time, Stiles yelled despite the fact that he had been biting his lips to muffle the sound.

He sank into Stephanie’s touch as she rubbed his back reassuringly and Stiles slipped his arm through the last arm hole, feeling like he had been put into a meat grinder . “Okay, how do I look?” he panted, turning slowly, sweat running down his forehead from the effort.

Alan refused to meet his eyes and Stephanie looked him over with a cool face, devoid of any emotion. However Stiles could smell the anger wafting off of Stephanie in waves. Suddenly her façade cracked as she snidely whispered, “Hmm, I don’t know, like you just got stabbed! I thought you were- I was worried that we were going to be-” she broke off, wiping at her eyes angrily.

Stiles felt at a loss. How could he tell them that he was half human or whole human or a deer in human skin? Even _he_ didn’t understand how his biology worked.

“Guys I..” Stiles trailed off uncomfortably. Alan opened his mouth to say something, but he was cut off by a familiar voice. 

“The Skills One course will be over in 30 minutes. Advanced Skills One Students, please start making your way to the silks building.” The chirpy voice spoke, and fell silent.

“Wow. Keeping it classy Steph,” Alan murmured weakly, but Stiles grinned, happy that at least someone was trying to be normal.

Stephanie looked as if she was going to make Stiles become familiar with her fist but instead she bent to look him in the eyes. “We _**will**_ be talking about this.” She announced, opening his cabin door with a loud bang. As Alan slunk out of the room, Stephanie looked back inside at him, biting her lip nervously.

“What Steph?” Stiles asked tiredly.

“I’m-glad-that-you’re-okay.” She said quickly, a blush on her face. She walked out briskly, without looking back, not seeing Stiles smiling as he slowly trailed behind them to his first class.


	6. Let's Get Down to Business

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I asked,” Kate began, pupils dilating as she ran her tongue quickly over her lips. Stiles was so hot. Was it hot in here? He watched as the pink slip of tongue slid back into her mouth. “How do you have sex?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Argh I took so long to update and I am sooo sorry. Finally wrote this chapter during my hike through the Grand Canyon.On the plus side, I finished my college apps!
> 
> *Rut is like heat, except unlike those other wonderful stories about self lubricating...anything, that won't be happening in this story(this wasn't explained and needed to be).
> 
> **Stiles looks like a mixture of this( http://artgerm.deviantart.com/art/Deer-Princess-344472029)  
> and this( http://detkef.deviantart.com/art/Better-days-289993489)  
> and acts like this ( http://www.deviantart.com/art/teen-deer-is-now-a-comic-292303214 )

Chapter 6

This week was not boding well for Stiles. First, the teacher has yelled at him for being late, and then his only friends had abandoned him, watching him out of the corners of their eyes with both awe and apprehension (the awe was on Alan’s part). Thankfully Leonard’s friends had stopped messing with him, but several of them, including Leonard, had been sent to get a psych eval when they came back to the main camp blubbering about how God had come down to judge them for their sins.

Stiles sighed and sat down. He kicked the dirt aimlessly as he waited for Stephanie and Alan to come out. He missed his friends. Alan’s painfully cocky, yet perverted view of the world, and Stephanie’s mama bear instincts were starting to grow on him.

 _What if they don’t want anything to do with you?_ his mind whispered.

Stiles shook his head to get rid of the black thought, but coldness settled his heart. If they didn’t want him anymore….he would be an outsider again, only now it would be among humans.

Suddenly there was cleavage in his face. Stiles scrambled backwards and looked up to see Kate grinning cockily at him. “What’s got ya down Stiles?” she purred, sitting down happily.

Stiles glared at her, and she returned his gaze coolly, crossing her legs daintily. Stiles allowed himself a quick look at said legs before snapping his gaze up to her face again. He was distinctly aware of his attraction to her but he squashed it down as he remembered her knife slicing through him. And the intense pain that had come with it.

"What do you want?” he bit out, looking at her warily. His face was blank, but he was uneasy. Although she had pulled the knife out of him, he didn’t know if he wanted to spend time around someone who had tried to kill him out of instinct.

"Well,” Kate sniffed delicately, looking at her nails, “I wanted to…apologize. For…you know....” She fiddled with her necklace, rubbing her fingers over the silver wolf almost reverently.

“No actually. No I **don’t** know. Please, do tell.” Sarcasm dripped from Stiles’ every word as he gazed at her with a critical eye. She looked up at him sharply, an emotion flitting across her face that was gone before he could find out what it was.

Suddenly his palms were clammy. What was he thinking, agitating a girl who seemed inclined to be a knife thrower in her circus career? He was about to backtrack when she spoke again.

“I’m sorry for attacking you senselessly," she began stiffly. “I was scared.” The truth of this hit Stiles hard. _Of course she had been scared you idiot,_ he chastised himself. _A seven foot deer would scare the fuck outta me too._

“Thanks for apologizing. It’s nice to know that there are decent people who admit their mistake.” He started to smile, and then froze as Stephanie and Alan’s scent hit him in the face.

“What’s wrong?” Kate asked, casually looking around, but Stiles noticed the way her body had tensed.

“Hey Stephanie, hey Alan,” Stiles began, uncertain, unsure as to what to say. The two stopped talking and there was a pregnant pause, too long to be considered friendly.

“Hey St-Stiles,” Alan stuttered, shifting his weight uncomfortably, looking at Stephanie. She rolled her eyes and stepped into his personal space.

“Stephanie,” Stiles said. Their faces were very close together. So close that he could count the freckle’s on her skin.

“Alright deerboy,” she ignored Alan’s look of horror, “you’re going to explain what happened last week.” She tried to be firm, but when Stiles looked closer he could see the tremors running through her body. Her eyes were wild, and she bit her bottom lip with a vengeance as she considered him. 

” I don’t know what you mean,” Stiles tried, mouth dry, heart thumping in his chest.

“See? I told you it was all a-,” Alan began tiredly. It sounded like they had had this argument many times.

”No! I’m _not_ insane,” Stephanie cried weakly. Stiles felt at a loss as Stephanie grasped the front of his shirt. “No! I’m here and you’re going to deal with me.” She locked eyes with him. Stiles looked down at her, feeling his composure slip. She looked as if she was in agony.

“Okay.” Stiles blew out through his mouth as Alan gently unhooked Stephanie from his clothes. “But we do this my way. In my cabin.” With that, he turned and made his way towards his cabin, praying that they wouldn’t follow. He quickly chanced a look over his shoulder, and he groaned. They were trudging after him; Kate following with a snobbish air around her, but looking at him curiously. Alan and Stephanie look uneasy, but firm. “Mom? I am so sorry,” he hastily prays.

Opening his cabin, he inwardly cringed at the mess he hadn’t cleaned up that morning. “Well, are you coming in?” He raised his eyebrows at them, but his sweaty palms betrayed him.

Kate stepped in first, delicately avoiding his dirty clothes strewn about his room, before sitting at his study chair. Stephanie and Alan hesitated at the doorstep, but Stephanie defiantly marched across his threshold and flopped onto his bed, Alan falling in step behind her and wiggling under the covers.

Stiles let out a breath that he didn’t know he was holding when he noticed Kate raising her eyebrow at Stephanie and Alan’s familiarity with his room. “They ransacked my room at some point,” he said in a way of explanation. At that, her eyebrows rose even higher.

“So,” Stiles licked his lips nervously, “what do you want from me?”

To his surprise, Kate spoke up. “Well, how about you explain how you can transform into a friggin deer?” At the looks she received, she took a defensive stance. “What? We were all thinking it, I just said it.”

”I want to see you transform,” Alan put in hesitantly, eyes peeking over the mound of blanket he had snuggled in. Stephanie just gazed at him calmly.

Stiles sighed and rolled his shoulders before sitting down gingerly on the edge of the bed. He was glad when neither Stephanie nor Alan flinched. “I’m going to shift first, and then explain.” Stiles waited for any objections but when he got none, he shifted.

His long hair paled until it turned white while Alan looked at him, dumbfounded. His ears elongated and rounded at the same time before tapering slightly, mimicking that of a deer, with brown fur on the outside and thick pale pink fur on the inside. Stiles closed his eyes as they dimmed down in color, paling into a watery pale blue before turning white, as if he was blind. When he opened them, Kate gasps, and Stephanie reaches out a hand to touch his ears.

He held out a hand, warding them away. The hardest part wasn’t over yet. He grits his teeth as he imagines his antlers, strong and proud pushing through his skull. It’s not painful, but he always had difficulties focusing his mind to doing one thing at a time.

“Woah!” He exclaimed as his antlers push through his hair. The weight of them pulled back his head slightly and he scratches at them, trying to get his hair off the points. Being top heavy always took him for surprise, no matter how much he shifted. He checks himself in his mirror, making sure that everything came in right.

His cheeks are dappled with pale tan spots, much like those on his pelt if he had changed to his full werecerva form. He shrugs off his t-shirt and cracks his back as the thick fur comes and covers his neck almost like a scarf, trailing off near his navel. He swung his head towards the group in his cabin, suddenly embarrassed about the stifling silence.

“Tah dah?” he tried to break the tension, and Kate laughed at him in delight.

“Can I pet you?” Alan asked, almost in reverence, and Stiles shrugs as if he’s not nervous.

“Yeah, sure.”

Alan crawled over Stephanie, who gives Stiles a soft smile, but sits still as Alan scratches the base of his antlers. Stiles snorts in pleasure, tilting his head slightly in Alan’s direction.

”Oh Stiles! You’re givin me the vapors!” Alan drawled, retracting his hand with a final pat on his head. Stephanie finally cracked, letting out a small chuckle. Stiles shifts back, ignoring the sounds of dissatisfaction. “Was that all?” he asked, hopeful. “Nuh uh Mister. You have to explain this whole whodicky” Stephanie gestured at his now normal body. Stiles sighed dramatically before he caught Kate and Stephanie staring at his chest.

“What?” he asked, putting back on his shirt.

“Nothing,” Kate sniffed, looking away from him. Stephanie stayed silent, but a heady scent wafted from the two girls. _Maybe they use the same shampoo?_ he thought to himself, looking at the both of them, curious.

“Um. Okay…Well to be honest, I don’t know how I transform,” he began, ignoring Alan’s whispered “Booo, lame”. “My mom always speculated that it involves magic though, and I agree. There’s no pain to this process, **and** we rearrange our bones to that of a four legged animal. **Magic** is some cool shit that no one can deny,” he finished, defiant.

Wait, your mom is one of these...things too?” Kate scrunched up her nose as if smelling something unpleasant.

“We’re not **things**. We’re werecerva,” Stiles reminded her absentmindedly.

“Uh, you say that like we’re supposed to know what that is,” Stephanie spoke up suddenly.

”Basically it’s a weredeer. We shift into deer, _cerva_ means deer…yeah. Basically the Council decided to call us that because it sounds lame.” Stiles rolled his shoulder, weary.

“So are you guys like werewolves? Do you change on the full moon?” Alan asked, bouncing in his seat.

“Okay first of all, I just shifted, so that rules out the full moon theory. Secondly, werewolves don’t exist,” Stiles scoffed, “that’s made up.”

Stephanie gave him a **look**. “What?” he asked, raising his arms in mock surrender.

“So magical boys who change into deer are real, but it’s out of the realm of possibility for someone to change into a wolf?” she asks, incredulous.

Stiles shrugged. These questions weren’t as hard as he thought they would be. “I think I would’ve noticed a wolfman running around during the full moon, he sassed, cocking an eyebrow at her. They grinned at each other, and Stiles finally felt at ease.

“Are there any aspects of a deer herd that your herd follows?” Kate suddenly piped up. The smile dropped from Stephanie’s face as Kate leaned towards him, batting her eyes.

Stiles shrugged noncommittally, but he felt that sense of **unease** again. “Yeah kinda. We fight for our mates, we have a rut season, and sometimes a male werecerva has a harem…” he broke off as Stephanie and Kate protested.

“A harem? Like female werecelber whores?” Stephanie screeched, locs rustling angrily as she shifted on his bed. “Do women even have any say in this?” Kate asked at the same time. They looked at each other and a looked passed between them before they nodded at the other with acceptance.

“Okay, I might be the odd person out, but…well. If I loved a lot of people, I would definitely be interested in a polygamous relationship, though I wouldn’t call them a harem,” Alan mumbled, embarrassed. The two girls boggled at him, but before they could rip into him, Stiles stepped in.

“Okay three things guys. One, I’m telling you about my culture, so the most respectful thing you can do is listen, **without** judgment. Two, did either of you guys listen to the fact that I said **sometimes** , as in rarely happens? And three, its **werecerva** Stephanie. And don’t call them whores. They’re women like you and deserve to be in any relationship they deem appropriate, you got that?” Stiles finished his rant, and Stephanie looked cowed.

“I just got my ass handed to me by a fifteen year old.” Stephanie gapped in awe. At Stiles look she quickly apologized, suddenly becoming interested in her nails.

“Yeah it wasn’t polite. ‘Harem’ just made me feel uncomfortable,” Kate said, though reluctant. Then she perked up. “So what’s the Council?”

And that was how Stiles got roped into telling them about the Council and how it was made of Alpha werecerva (“Isn’t that sexist?”) and how they were voted on (“Oh, so not sexist?”) and how they were responsible to keep the herd a secret from humans (“….Awkward Stiles.”) as well as mentor the new babies how to not shift in public and trade important information with other werecerva herds in the area. Finally his throat was dry and he collapsed on Alan’s leg, spent.

“Wait, wait, two more questions!” Alan exclaimed, jiggling his legs in excitement.

“God! What?” Stiles groaned, throwing an arm over his eyes.

“It’s really important though Stiles,” Alan whined.

“I swear to God if it’s about being able to listen into the girls locker room…”Stephanie threatened.

“No!” Alan replied indignantly. “It’s just…how do you make someone… a werecerva?” Alan shrugged, trying to make it seem like no big deal, but his tense position said otherwise.

Steph, Kate, and Alan looked at him earnestly and Stiles sighed. “It’s not too pretty. In fact, it’s downright gory,” he warned them.

“So? We’re all waiting,” Kate rolled her eyes at him, but by this time he was used to it and kind of found it endearing. 

“So you know how it’s always rumored that you have to bite someone to make them a vampire?” They all nodded. “Yeah, well, that’s kinda true, kinda not. Basically you have to give the person you want to turn an essence of you… like how my mawmaw did. She made my pawpaw a coat a pelt of all the fur she had collected over the years from all parts of her pelt. He locked eyes with Alan. “Even the pubic hair,” he added, wiggling his eyebrows. Alan leered at him good nauredly and they shared a grin. Finally they were back to being friends.

“Wait, wait ,wait. So the dude put on the pelt and poof! He transformed?” Stephanie demanded.

“I don’t know exactly. My family never clarified that part, no matter how much I asked. I’m thinking magic though. Just saying,” he defended as Kate raised her eyebrow. “There’s one legend that said she ground up her hoof into a fine powder and flaying off his skin piece by piece and filling it with the powder until they did it all over his body. He was only able to shift partly and my grandmother never ran the same.” They all shuddered. “Anyway, it’s painful, and you have to ask the whole herd if they want this person to be a new addition or not.” He looked up, and was met with the sight of Stephanie grinning widely.

“So basically a tattoo? Was it a cool tattoo?” she pestered.

“Did you not just hear the **flaying** part?” Alan screeched, disgust evident on his face.

“They moved countries when I was born, and they were the only couple to successfully do it.” He rubbed a hand over his face, done with the topic. The truth was, he knew **more** about the ceremony than he let on, but it didn’t mean he had to tell them everything. “Are we done here?”He asked, feeling a bit harried.

Nope, I have one more question,” Kate said, ignoring Alan’s indignant “Hey! **I** was first!”

Stiles licked his lips as he nervously waited for Kate’s questions. She made him nervous, but in an ‘electricity- running -along -his arms’ sorta way. The whole day they’d been at this show and tell, she had been giving him bedroom eyes. Or at least he thought they were bedroom eyes. They could’ve been ‘I have to pee, but I don’t want to miss this’ eyes. She made him think and she was putting off the most **delicious** scent also.

“...Stiles?” Kate finished, looking satisfied.

“You can’t just **ask** that Kate! It’s…well, it’s private!” Stephanie was yelling, biting her bottom, but that heady scent he had smelled on her earlier came back in full force. And if looks could kill, Kate would be in a body bag 50ft under the sea.

“No, I’ll answer it.” They all looked at him expectantly. Stephanie was fidgeting, and Alan wiggled his eyebrows at him. “Uh…what was the question again?” he asked, rubbing his head, sheepish. Stephanie threw her arms up as if to say ‘I knew it’ before flopping back on his bed.

“I asked,” Kate began, pupils dilating as she ran her tongue quickly over her lips. Stiles was so hot. Was it hot in here? He watched as the pink slip of tongue slid back into her mouth. “How do you have sex?”

Stiles blushed. “S-sex?” he choked out. _Play it cool. Play it cool._ The problem was, he was a virgin. And the stuff he heard the other dudes talk about back at camp was…awkward and never was the same story. _Time to bullshit_. He leaned close to them. “Alright, I’ll tell you, but this is high class information. People would kill for this information.” He stated solemnly. They gazed back at him, nodding. “Okay, so you know how a horse mates right?” Kate nodded eagerly, while Stephanie groaned and Alan scrunched up his face, trying to imagine. “Well,” they all looked at him, and Stiles could smell their sweat as they anticipated his answer, “it’s nothing like that.” He finished, satisfied as he leaned back on his bed. Kate pouted and he winked at her. 

“So are we all good for this show and tell?” Stiles asked, tired. But what he really wanted to say was _Are we all good? Are we friends again?_ But that sounded needy and he didn’t want to come off as **that** friend. He looked up from his clasped hands to see Stephanie and Alan jump on him.

“Aw, don’t be a sad sap! We forgive your uniqueness.” Alan smirked at him before they all untangled themselves from each other. Kate coughed lightly, and gave Alan a pointed look.

“So… whad’ya say me and you leave this joint babe?” Alan tried growling seductively to Stephanie.

She sighed as if put upon but extended her arm towards him. “Sure honeybunches, I’d go anywhere with you.” She blew a kiss towards Stiles, which he took as her own way of forgiving him, before they swept out the door.

The door closed with an audible click. “So…we’re alone,” Kate said, getting up from his chair and flopping onto his bed, her shirting up. Stiles snapped his gaze from the sliver of torso showing. 

“Yeah,” he said, wincing as his voice cracked.

“I’m very…interested in you Stiles.” She trailed the tip of her finger along his arm.”I think we should date.” She smiled at him, all teeth, and Stiles suddenly felt like prey caught in her gaze.

He tried swallowing, but his throat seemed to stick together. “D-date? Is that even legal?” Stiles asked nervously. He tried to subtly adjust himself through his jeans, his cock pressing uncomfortably against the denim. Kate must have noticed, because suddenly his lap was full of her. _Age is just a number_ his mind threw in, and he blushed.

“Yes, it is legal…As long as we don’t do any…frisky.” She bit her lip and suddenly her weight was gone as she stood up, brushing off her jeans. A wave of warmth spread through Stiles as he considered what she was saying.

“F-frisky? Yeah, no on the frisky stuff. I am frisk free,” he babbled, but he went silent as Kate walked up to him, her nose barely touching his.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she purred and she stepped out of his room, her lingering smell of **heat** smacking him in the face.

“I’ve got a girlfriend,” he whispered to himself, rubbing his head against the pillow she had laid on previously. His antlers bit into the fabric . “A girlfriend! We’re going to go out on dates.” He rubbed his arms and back on the bed before he heard the bed groan. _Shit!_ he thought, looking down at himself. His hooves had torn into his comforters! He adjusted his haunches to a more comfortable position as he thought. If he only shifted into a werecerva from her **scent**.…how could they kiss? He groaned as he climbed clumsily out of his bed. _I need to practice my control_.


End file.
